


Supernatural Rewrite: Season Nine.

by huntertales



Series: Supernatural Rewrite. [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Character Storyline Switch, F/M, Heavy Angst, Reader Insert, The Reader Gets Sam's Storyline With A Twist, miscarriage aftermath, supernatural rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:48:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 95,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntertales/pseuds/huntertales
Summary: Hello! I'm extremely sorry for the long pause between updating seasons. I went on a mini hiatus that turned into a month long. But I'm back, and ready to start again. I hope you guys enjoy yet another season!Episode Warning:Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Series: Supernatural Rewrite. [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/760206
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. I Think I'm Gonna LIke It Here.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm extremely sorry for the long pause between updating seasons. I went on a mini hiatus that turned into a month long. But I'm back, and ready to start again. I hope you guys enjoy yet another season!
> 
> **Episode Warning:** Heavy angst, mentions of childbirth, stillbirth aftermath, character death(s), hints of depression.

They were calling it a meteor shower. You scrolled through an endless feed of news articles and social media buzz about the phenomenon that was happening all over the world. Pictures upon pictures being posted on every platform, short videos uploaded by people who captured streaks of white light illuminating the night sky. During your search through the unexpected natural event, you couldn’t find anything about reports of bodies crashing to the ground at hundreds of miles per hour. Maybe even thousands? Plummeting to Earth after getting thrown out of their heavenly home, their wings ripped from their bodies. You didn’t know the consequences just yet about what this meant for Cas and the other angels. Your gut told you it wasn’t going to be the slightest bit pretty. It never was when it came to these kind of things. 

You placed your phone with the screen down on the leather seat for a moment and back around at your familiar, comforting surroundings; the Impala driving in the darkness of the night, Dean behind the wheel and Sam sitting in the passenger seat beside his brother. The three of you knew the truth about what happened all over the world not that long ago. It wasn’t a meteor shower, it was angels falling from heaven. You let out a heavy sigh from the situation that fell into your lap. Hell was your number one problem not that long ago, but now that you had to drop that, heaven quickly took the empty slot. No rest for the wicked. They wouldn’t let you even catch your breath before throwing you another swing.

“This makes no sense. I mean, how many angels fell—hundreds, thousands even? And nobody sees anything. This is…Look at this.” You leaned forward in your seat and stretched your arm out to show Sam the article you were reading, along with a video attached at the end showing the sight seen all around the world. “They’re calling it a meteor shower. Seriously?” Dean merely glanced over at the screen for a moment, not wanting to risk the chance of taking his eyes off the road for too long. Sam nodded his head after taking one look before returning his back onto the road. You noticed both of them weren’t listening to what you were saying, occupied with their own personal thoughts. “What’s going on, guys? You okay?”

“Us? Yes. We’re fine.” Dean answered for himself and his brother. You retracted your arm and dropped it back down to your lap after you returned back to your seat. You could see right through their flimsy response. “It’s just—”

“It’s just we got a major freakin’ crap fest on our hands. Yeah, tell me about it.” You finished the presumption Dean was having about this whole situation, shifting around slightly in your seat to get more comfortable. “Thousands of superpowered dicks touching down, and we got no idea where to start.”

“Angels aren’t our problem right now, Y/N.” Sam said. The tone of his voice was solemn. It seemed as if he was trying to break some bad news to you, trying to figure out the right way. Something he was afraid to say. You wondered what was so important at a time like this. “Or demons, or Metatron, or whatever the hell happened to Cas.”

“Why? Because we hugged it out in that church like some big family and now we’re gonna go to Disneyland?” You asked them in a sarcastic tone. You shook your head slightly from how they were being. Nothing was as important as what you witnessed outside of the church. “Dean, you said it yourself—we’re not gonna sleep till this is done.”

“I know.” Dean muttered. He regretted the words you were throwing back in his face. It wasn’t like him to lose focus in the little details of the aftermath of abandoning the demon trials than the bigger problem you had in front of you. Angels falling from the sky was more important than anything lingering in the older Winchester’s mind right now. You didn’t realize it was more grave, more personal. Maybe you just didn’t want to realize the truth yourself. 

“So, what’s the problem?” You asked the both of them. 

The boys exchanged a glance between one another, suddenly reluctant to tell you the truth you were pressuring them for. There wasn’t much time to tell you the truth. They thought if anyone was to break the news it was them. The two people who you trusted out of anyone in the world. It was the reason why they were here in the first place. Why you were traveling down some back road in the Impala. Because all of this was a comfort. Some kind of way for your mind to cushion the blow. But nothing could prepare you for the truth. The consequences of your own actions you refused to believe were possible.

“You.” Sam’s answer made you look at him a bit funny, not sure what he meant. He wasn’t laughing. The boys were stone, cold serious. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this, okay? But something happened back there in the church. And I don’t know what. I don’t know why—“

“You’re dying, Y/N.” Dean cut off his brother, tired of beating around the bush. He was always the one who liked to rip off the band aid instead of softening the blow. Tell you straight out how it was going to be. But even speaking those two words was the hardest thing he had to say. 

You found yourself responding with silence, and for a few seconds you couldn’t do much, other than stare at the two men sitting in front of you. Hearing those words hit something inside of you. Almost as if they were forcing you to realize something you were trying not to believe. A piece of truth a part of your brain was trying to bury. Suddenly you felt…empty. Like something was missing. 

You looked down at your body to see that you were still wearing the same clothes you had on back at the church. Nothing was missing. But something still felt off. You pressed a hand against your stomach. For some reason you were expecting it to stick out, feel more rounder. But it felt like it always had your entire life. The sensation sent a rush of panic through your body. “You’re lying” was all you managed to respond with to the older WInchester’s haunting words.

\+ + + 

A person can prepare themselves for just about anything. They can try and put on a face like they’re ready for the worst life throws at them. Raise their child with the lessons they had to learn the hard way. Put them through hell to toughen them up, make them grow a thick skin so when the worst does eventually happen it’s not as bad as they thought it was going to be. Soften the blow. Dean thought he was ready. He thought he was prepared for the worst. Dean’s entire life felt like it was rock bottom, he stumbled and fell to the point where he felt like there was no end in sight. Sometimes he got little breaks. Other times he wondered if he would keep falling dowards for the rest of his life, never quite making the impact his entire life was bracing him for. And while he was ready for the other shoe to drop, the rug pulled out from underneath his feet, the idiot kept up the smallest bit of hope. 

Dean thought in the back of his mind that things might work out in the end. If he worked hard enough, kept a watchful eye on you and stopped you before you could push yourself past the point of no return that maybe things would be okay. And that’s what kills a person’s spirit. That little bit of hope in a time when you need it the most. A little faith. The wish that maybe things will be okay in the end. Maybe all of this was bad dream and Dean was going to wake up in bed, wrapped up in his arms on the morning you were ready to finish what you had set on accomplishing all these months. Maybe, just maybe, he could have stopped this from happening. 

The beeping of the heart monitor and the body lying in the hospital bed sobered him up from his personal thoughts. It reminded him of the harsh reality that had unfolded over the past day and a half was a nightmare come true. 

Everything happened so fast, decisions were made without even much of a thought. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Being told they did everything they could. Being asked questions about what he wanted them to do. Dean nodded his head at the first suggestion they gave him. Whatever. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about it. While the logical part of his brain worked just enough to remind him that he might regret rushing through the process when he started thinking with a clear head, he didn’t care. He felt too numb to think of the future. Part of him felt like there was no point in having one if he was going to leave the hospital without you.

Dean grew up thinking about the kinds of things people got to have—getting married, settling down and having children, a career, even owning house—those things were for normies. Those who didn’t devout their life to hunting the supernatural, the monsters. Every part of Dean thought he wasn’t cut out for even the slightest bit of that good stuff. Nobody was going to love him for who he was, and he tried to have a family that was beside him and his brother. A little slice of normalcy, a bit of his own happiness. It never worked out. Until you came into his life. 

You always broke his standards on what life should give him. You loved him for who he was, and even then some. You were willing to go to hell if it meant he would live. You’d give him the world on a string. Because you knew he would do the same. You wanted to give him a relationship than making him forget about the things he was raised to hint. You gave him a reason to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. For a little while life didn’t seem that bad. You were going to close the gates of hell and lock away all those monsters that ruined your life. You and him were going to have a child, maybe even get married. Live a life you always talked about. You were going to accomplish that….You were. Past tense. Something that couldn’t be changed. A memory stuck in his mind forever. 

What remained of that dream turned into a living nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Dean felt empty. And yet at the same time flooded with emotions that made it feel like he was drowning in his sorrows. All of this was his fault. He kept wondering what he could’ve done to change this outcome to something different. He sat in the hospital chair staring at the one person he would do anything for. He would switch places with you in a heartbeat if it meant you were alive. If you just let him do the trials all of this could have been avoided. 

Perhaps the gates of hell could have been shut for good. Or maybe you would’ve stopped him at the last second and it would be you sitting in this chair staring at him in a comatose state, trying to figure out how to fix this. Or even finding the courage to say your goodbyes. Because you would still have a part of him to hold on to, and his brother to take care of you. Dean didn’t even have that. All he was left with was guilt. The blood was on his hands. The death of his child was his fault. He forced himself to repeat the thought over and over again to stop himself thinking about other things. Things that were worse than the funeral arrangements. 

Something like how he felt the grip around his hand loosen when you were using every ounce of energy you had left to deliver a baby you were only going to be able to do so much with. Say your goodbyes and plan a proper burial. He wanted you to have that closure, to hear the words that none of this was your fault. No one had a clue this was how it was going to end. Dean begged for you to hold on a little longer. He couldn’t go through losing two people in the span of minutes. It was hard enough to make funeral arrangements of your own newborn. He couldn’t do the same for the woman he loved. Not again. Not for the second time. 

It was stupid to think that Dean was cut out to be a father. Every child he had or tried to take care of met the same fate. Why did he think this was going to turn out any different? Your child was doomed from the very beginning. In a twisted, self loathing sort of way, Dean said his goodbyes. To his child, to the chances of having something like this again. Because it was never going to work out. Life taught him another lesson. He made arrangements to have your child buried in the same cemetery his mother and your parents were. Mary Winchester’s casket would be kept company by a small one. Maybe the baby was up in heaven, being taken care of by their grandparents. Hopefully someone was watching over the kid. Someone better than him. 

Dean knew there was more grave matters that required his attention. The sky was falling, he had no idea where the hell Cas was and if he was okay. He didn’t even take into consideration how Sam was handling this situation. All Dean kept wondering was what he needed to do to fix this situation. He knew for a fact that him and his brother weren’t leaving the hospital without you. Dean would do anything to get you back…anything.

\+ + +

“The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs. Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived…”

Sam could hear what the doctor was trying to say, but he couldn’t get himself to listen to much of anything. He blamed it on the lack of sleep he had gotten since this ordeal unraveled. He was exhausted, his body felt heavy. Every part of him wanted to rest his eyes even if it was just for a few minutes. But his mind wouldn’t let him. He feared if he took his attention off of you for even the slightest second something worse could happen. Not that it already did. How much worse could this situation get? You were lying in a hospital bed apparently in a comatose state while Dean had to make arrangements for a human life that never got a fighting chance. To see what life could offer them. To see how much love their parents could give them. Sam tried to share the burden of the decisions, but each time he tried to help, his older brother butted him out. It was Dean’s child, it was his decision for what needed to be done. 

Sam was left with his thoughts as he sat in this hospital chair, staring…thinking about all the ways he let you down. He had been there with you every step of the way. How did he not see the warning signs earlier? And if he did, would have it made a difference? He watched as the months passed by and the effects of the trials slowly wither you away into the deranged, hopefully hopeless woman who just wanted to do good. Who tried her hardest to achieve that and some inner peace for all the past mistakes she made. In the end, no matter how good you had done, it never felt good enough. You always thought the choices you made were the wrong one. The people you love trusted you, just at arm’s length. Not enough for you to do a little heavy lifting and save the day.

Sam understood where you were coming from on a deeper level, more than Dean could ever try. He understood why you were doing this. It was more than just making a better future for yourself and the child that you were carrying. Somehow the trials messed with your head along the way and filled it with false hope that you didn’t need to achieve. They made you believe all the damage you were doing to your body was somehow purifying you. Cleansing away the demon blood that was most likely gone by now. You could take the demon out of the girl, and she would still believe she was a monster. Sam felt like that a lot himself. He could save hundreds of lives and yet it couldn’t make up for the ones he lost. The people he hurt over the years after he trusted the wrong people. His decisions at the time might have made him happy, but it only hurts the ones he loved the most. 

Maybe if the roles were reversed, if somehow Sam caught on faster to what you were doing that night when all of you were trying to complete the first trial, it would be him lying in the hospital bed. Sam would have been the one standing in the church confessing all of his greatest sins. Letting the people he loved down. Letting his big brother, the man who was a pain in his ass at times…who spent his entire life just trying to make sure he was safe, feel like he couldn’t trust him. He thought that was the worst feeling in the world. Not having your own flesh and blood, the person you spend every day with, not trust you with anything that mattered. He thought nothing could top that. Until he figured out you were going into labor three months early, and Dean had to deliver him the news. It made Sam realize he let the one person who had always been there for him down. He should’ve kept a better eye on you. But he didn’t. And because of that, this was the outcome. 

“…The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm.”

Sam was torn away from his thoughts when he heard the doctor finish up what he was saying about the patient in his care. He stood at the edge of the bed and overlooked the medical chart to see if there might have been any improvements from the last time he checked up on you. However, it seemed there was little progress, things were spiraling downwards at a faster rate than they hoped. Dean observed the x-rays the doctor ordered to have done to see the extent of your injuries. It a medical mystery as to what happened to you. The doctors were doing everything in their power to fix this, but they feared not even modern medicine could heal the damage that was done. Dean felt his heart sink at the months of stress and damage put on your body. While it things looked bleak, you were still in there fighting. Maybe there was a chance you could pull through. You’ve done it before. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dean muttered time himself. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the guilt ridden expression on his face never left since he got here. It seemed to grow worse at the sight of things and more bad news being given to him. All he needed was a break, a little ounce of luck for him to believe things were going to get better.

“If your wife continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep her alive, but—“ The doctor’s voice was quiet as he told him the bitter future the brothers would have to look forward to. They would be burying two bodies. 

“She’ll be dead.” Sam cut off the doctor, finishing the diagnosis he had found. He slowly moved his gaze away from your body and to a spot on the ground. 

“Technically, yes.” The doctor nodded his head. “I’m afraid so." 

"So there's—there’s no recovery?” Dean found himself asking the question he didn’t want the answer to. Hee needed to know in order to plan for future action. In case modern medicine failed him when he depended on it more than ever. “I mean, there’s no bounce-back. There’s no nothing." 

"I’m afraid that’s in God’s hands now.” The doctor thought some comforting words in times of distress would have been helpful in this situation. Many families looked towards spiritual guidance, but it seemed his words only added fuel to the fire.

Dean found himself staring at the doctor for a long second before he spoke up, deciding to give the man a piece of his mind. “You’re a doctor. You’re a medical professional. You’re trying to tell me that my wife’s life is in God’s hands? What, is that supposed to be a comfort?” Dean found himself losing his patience for the first time since he got here. He had been an eerily calm, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He snapped at the man who was supposed to be taking care of the woman he loved. Who wasn’t supposed to lying in that bed in the first place. Because it was your trust in God that that put you there in the first place. 

“Mr. Dougherty—” The doctor tried to apologize for the nerve he seemed to have hit, Dean didn’t give him a chance. He was sick and tired of being saying sorry. He just wanted someone to do their damn jobs and save your life before it was too late. 

“That’s not good enough. God has nothing to do with this equation. Do you think if God was here he would’ve let this happen?” Dean questioned the doctor. The man tried once again to defuse the situation, knowing well enough his outburst was caused by the grief. Dean still wasn’t speaking. “I already lost someone. That’s a life I can’t get back. I have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. But she still has a fighting chance. I’m putting my trust in you to fix her. Not God. Screw him. Just do your damn job." 

Sam jumped up from his seat and mae his way over to his brother before the man could do something he would regret while he was in this stage. Both of them were hurting right now. Sam wanted nothing more than to act out on his feelings. Punch a wall. Violently shake the doctor to get him to do something. Sell his soul to the first demon if it meant he got you back. But it wasn’t the time. 

"Dean, calm down.” Sam mumbled to the older man. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder in some kind of attempt to console the man, Dean violently shrugged off the man. Dean tossed the doctor a deathly glare before he stormed out of the room. Sam let out a heavy sigh from what unfolded and looked over at the doctor. “I’m sorry. It’s…”

“I understand. I wish there was more that I could do.” The doctor apologized. Sam could see the man’s own guilt at the lack of resources he could provide. “What conspired is nothing short of a tragedy. Believe me when I say we’re doing everything we can. We have grief counselors for you and your brother if you feel talking to someone might make this transition easier.”

Sam could only nod his head at the meager offer. He watched as the doctor made his way out into the hall to check on other patients. The younger man made his way over to you and back to the same chair he had been sitting in since all of you got here. He found himself reaching out to grab your hand and place it into his own, as if he needed to be reminded that you were still here. You weren’t gone just yet. Every part of him wanted to believe you were going to bounce back like the other times before. But in the back of his mind he knew. He was stuck with a moral dilemma of what the right thing to do was.

The three of you would do anything for each other. And you have. You and Dean sold your souls for the chance of Sam to live. Sam said yes to the devil and threw himself in the cage as some kind of hope to save his family. Over the years it was a constant run around selling souls, tricking Death and so many other half assed plans to save you from this situation. One day it was going to have to end. The question was always when. Sam wondered if today was when you got off for good. Even though there was always a way out of this, he wasn’t sure how to get there. 

What was the right thing to do in this situation? Let the one person he loved like family since he was a kid have peace, or bring them back from the dead and force them to face the consequences? Miscarriages happen without reasons. It wasn’t your fault, but he knew you would blame yourself. It would eat you up inside. There was no good choice. You either live and feel like wanting to die, or you let the people you love suffer without you. Sam didn’t know if you would go to Heaven. He hoped so. Maybe your soul was marked for hell. Sam thought after Bobby died he was kicking up his feet and relaxing for the very first time. Turned out he was rotting in hell. Sam didn’t want to give up. He couldn’t. 

In the back of his mind he knew what he wanted to do. Even though he knew if that was him lying in that hospital bed, teetering on the edge of death, he would have wanted to be put to rest. It was selfish and unfair to bend the rules while the rest of the human population suffered. But you and the Winchesters weren’t like most people. And Sam couldn’t turn his back on his family. Not this time…not again. Not ever. 

\+ + +

Dean didn’t know what else to do, or where to turn. Angels were falling from the sky. You were close to the edge of death. He made funeral arrangements for his unborn child. He just wanted one thing to go right. Maybe that’s why he was sitting in the hospital chapel, his knees resting on the wooden bar to help him pray. He wasn’t sure he had formally done this before. He always said praying was like begging. No good came out of it. Because God wasn’t there to answer. He could say that to everyone in the chapel, Dean highly doubt they would care. Because when you have someone who’s sick and dying, the only hope you have is for the big guy upstairs and his angels. They hope that maybe they’ll have a miracle come their way if they prayed hard enough.

The man might have been here for the same reason, trying to reach out for a higher power, but Dean wasn’t trying to get in contact with God. He was getting in contact with his friend. Both of them might have bad a rough patch, but push comes to shove, Dean knew he was the only person he could count on during times like this. 

“Cas, are you there?” Dean quietly started off his prayer, hoping that the angel might be able to hear him. He wasn’t sure what to expect. For the angel to pop up right next to him and scare the crap out of him like always, ignore his call because of how things ended. Even if that was the case, Dean knew Cas would come when he told him what had happened. “Y/N’s hurt. She’s hurt…she’s hurt pretty bad. And, um…I know you think that I’m pissed at you, okay? But I don’t care that the angels fell. So whatever you did, or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter, okay? We’ll work it out. Please, man, I need you here.”

Dean waited a second before he opened up his eyes, part of him hoping that the angel would be here to save the day. But when he turned his head to stare at the pew, he felt his heart sink at the sight of the empty seat. He thought that would have worked. Cas wouldn’t ignore his prayers, not after what he said. Something was going on. Whatever it was, he didn’t have time for it. Desperate times call for desperate measures. What he was about to do was stupid, but he didn’t care. Dean told himself he would do anything to get you back. And he was about to. He mumbled a “screw it” underneath his breath and got to work. 

“Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester…and I need your help.” Dean would have never done this before. “The deal is this—Linwood Memorial hospital, Randolph, New York. The first one who can help me gets my help in return, And you know that ain’t nothin’. Hell, it’s no secret that we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But you know that I am good for my word, and, uh, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t needing, so…” 

He found himself trailing off, not sure what else he could say. Dean had done a lot of things in his time to get back the people he loved. He let out a heavy sigh and pressed his fists against his forehead, wondering if what he just did was the right decision. Or he was just like everyone else here in this chapel. An idiot talking to themselves searching for that little miracle that might never come. 

\+ + +

“You’re dying, Y/N.” 

The words felt out of place for the situation that you were in. Every part of you wanted to believe it was some kind of mixup that Dean was getting at. You weren’t dying. There was no way possible. You sat there in silence for a few moments, not saying much of anything. All you could do—all that you could focus on at the moment, was how different your stomach felt. You kept feeling it to see why it did. You found yourself patting your hand against the flesh as if you were trying to rouse movement from the particular spot in your body. It would suddenly feel heavier like you remembered, more rounder. The skin was harder to protect the new life inside of you that you had been creating over the past several months. 

Instead your index finger the stomach you had before all of this started. The body you had loved, the one who carried you for the past thirty-three years. The only soul living inside of your body. For a second your own question lingered on your mind, almost forgetting what Dean had said. 

“What happened to my baby?” You found yourself asking a question that felt more appropriate for the situation. You slowly were understanding why it felt weird and out of place. Because you were supposed to be six months pregnant. Far enough along to show, and to feel the baby’s movement. Your eyes shot forward to the front seat, staring at the two men who had told you that you were dying. But that wasn’t the most important thing on your mind right now. “Guys, what happened to the baby?”

An uncomfortable silence fell through out the car as your question remained unanswered. You frantically began trying to wrack your brain for any kind of clue as to what was going on here. You remembered getting out of the church, seeing first hand of all the angels being expelled from heaven…and that was it. You tried your hardest to figure out the missing details, but it was like your mind was blocking out the memory from you. “Look, this is for your own good—”

“Damn it, what the hell is going on?!” You practically screamed on the top of your lungs out of frustration from the lack of answers you were being given. A sense of dread came over at you from how they were acting. They only got like this when they were trying to withhold bad news for you. Tears began to prick your eyes from what it was. “What happened?”

The boys exchanged a look between one another before Dean adjusted his grip on the wheel, he loosened his fingers so he was gripping it so tightly. “You’re dying, Y/N.” Dean repeated the information once again. Your face scrunched up with horror at the words that came out from his mouth, this time you were understanding what he was saying. “Look, just because you’re dying doesn’t mean you’re…dead—not yet. We’re gonna fight this. I got the plan. You just need to hang on. You hear me?”

“If I’m dying…then why the hell are we still driving? Are we going to a hospital?” You bombarded the man with questions that demanded answers before he could say anything. You ran your fingers through your hair in fearful frustration. “And what’s going on with my body? Nothing’s making sense.”

“We need you to understand that you’re not really in this car right now? We are in your head, and you’re in a coma and are dying.” Dean informed you of the bad news. You slowly looked over at him, a sense of disbelief crossing your face. All of it felt like he was lying to you when you were hit with a sudden image that felt like more a memory. Screaming, crying…Dean holding your hand, telling you to hold on a little longer. You began to shake your head. “You slipped into one after you—”

“No, no. You’re lying.” You suddenly pressed your hands against your ears and shut your eyes to block out the information that was coming back to you all at once. You were doing everything in your power not to come face to face with the truth. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening—”

Before you could repeat the mantra again, you suddenly felt someone grab ahold of your wrists and violently shake you back into reality. You opened your eyes to see that Dean was leaning over the seat, hands off the wheel, forcing you to look at him. “Pull yourself together, damn it! Now is not the time to spiral.” 

“How…” You found yourself taken aback at what was going on right now, and how you were still on the road while Dean neglected the wheel. 

“Listen to me. We are in your head, and you’re in a coma and are dying.” Dean repeated back the information that you tried to ignore. “Do you understand me?” 

Slowly, you nodded your head. Dean let go of your wrists and got back into his seat, placing his hands back on the wheel as if it mattered. You found yourself sitting perfectly still for a few seconds as your mind began to wrap itself around the situation that was unraveling. “How…how do you know that? Me, dying.”

“Because I’m you. Sam’s you. You’re you. All of this is you.” Dean explained the details, gesturing a hand to the Impala itself. You furrowed your brow as you looked around the place. All of it felt so real. And yet it was starting to feel like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. “We’re in your head!”

“You’re serious.” You mumbled. Dean didn’t respond, he kept his eyes on the road. Sam looked over his shoulder to give you a solemn nod. You felt yourself leaning back in your seat as you rubbed your face with your hands. “The whole reason why I stopped doing the trials was not to die. And I’m dying…” The baby was most likely gone. It explained why you didn’t feel pregnant anymore. Because you weren’t. 

“You didn’t know, Y/N. None of us did.” Sam spoke up before you could spiral again. An overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness hit you like you had never experienced before. You pressed a hand against your mouth to keep a sob from escaping. “It’s not your fault.”

“The next time we see Naomi or Metatron or whoever is to blame for this, we will get some justice, but for right now, we gotta fight this, sweetheart.” Dean snapped you, trying to focus your attention on the situation at hand. “This ain’t over for you or the baby. Not for a long shot. Got it?”

“Okay.” You inhaled a deep breath and composed yourself. He was right. This wasn’t the first time you had experienced death before. You knew people in all the high places to fix this. One you got your hands on that slimy little angel you were going to make him pay. You were going to make him bring your child back to life, hit the undo button. Everything was going to be okay. But in order for that to become a reality you needed to get the hell out of here. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it.” Dean replied a few seconds later, his tone quieter, a little less confident than before.

“What does that mean? I’m sort of dying here, apparently.” You reminded the man. 

“It means that I’m working on it, all right?” 

“The thing is, if I am dying—and I believe you guys. I do. But if you’re you and Sam’s him…but the both of you are really me and you’re the part of me that wants to fight to live…” You were confusing yourself from the things that just came out of your mouth from trying to understand the complex situation going on here. And yet all of it made sense to you 

“Yes.” Dean said, completely lost himself at what the hell you were going on about. “I have no idea what you just said.” 

“Think of it like this. You’re Y/N’s logic. You’re telling her what to do and focus on getting out of here. I’m the emotional side of her.” Sam tried to explain the situation to his brother, in reality it was to yourself to make sense of the simulation your brain made up. “She needs to compartmentalize her grief. Long enough to figure out a plan to get the baby back.” 

“Well, you kind of slipped up earlier…” Dean muttered to his brother. 

“Okay. But if you guys don’t have any idea how I’m supposed to fight, then am I supposed to be fighting at all?” You found yourself posing an important question that felt right to be asked. If you choose to ignore what happened and give yourself a fighting chance to make things right. Even if it somehow worked out in the end…you didn’t think you would be able to live with yourself. The memory would haunt you for years to come. But you were jumping to conclusions. You still had no clue how to get out of here. You were stuck. 

“Are you serious?” Dean asked you in disbelief. 

“Hell yes she’s serious.” A voice you thought you were never going to hear again suddenly came out of nowhere. You turned your head to see none other than Bobby Singer sitting in the backseat with you. You blinked, officially wondering to yourself what in the hell was going on here. “And if you ask me, I think the kid’s got a good point.” 

“Y/N wants to die, and you think she’s got a point?’ 

“Okay, I don’t want to die.” You defended yourself from the words that Dean was putting in your mouth. “I asked if maybe I was supposed to be—”

“Shut it, Y/N.” Dean cut you off before you could say anything else. It seemed your mind was getting a fight with itself. The logical part of your brain with your heart. “You—go. Oh, and uh, before you throw me under the bus, you’re welcome for the hell rescue.”

“Hey, first of all, you didn’t rescue jack, half-wit. Y/N did. Second of all, Y/N,” You turned your head away from the front seat and to the man who was supposed to be the part of you that deep inside was okay with. Part of you that wanted to die. “You’re in a coma. Now, suck as they may, sometimes that’s just the way things go.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam jumped into the argument. “There’s a way. You taught us that.” 

“Oh, you mean like the way one of you idjits does some ‘bass-ackwards’ crazy thing to beat death, like sell your soul?” Bobby wondered if that’s what they were talking about. 

“Exactly like selling my soul.” Dean defended himself. 

“Yeah, like that worked so well last time.” Bobby said. 

Dean scoffed at the attitude and dismissively waved a hand at the man. “Oh!” 

“Enough! All of you!” You suddenly snapped in frustration from the voices that were going on about nothing. You rubbed your eyes from everything that was unraveling quicker than you could process. “I can’t hear myself think!”

You never felt more overwhelmed in your life than you did right now. You felt yourself being tugged into two different directions, but you weren’t sure which was the right one. Dean noticed your hesitance about listening to him. "Well, you’re not actually buying this, are you?”

“Excuse me. Are you dead? Because I am, and maybe I’m here because I’m part of Y/N that actually knows what the hell she’s talking about.” Bobby shot back at the older Winchester, starting an argument that wasn’t defusing the situation. 

“Well, Sam and I are in the front seat because Y/N put us here because she wants to fight.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. He looked over his shoulder to shoot you a quick glance to make sure. “Right?”

It seemed that wasn’t the case. Bobby found himself sitting in the middle of the brothers, squishing himself between the decision you were trying to make. “Well…that just got real uncomfortable.” Bobby said. He didn’t want to stick around much longer for the argument that was going nowhere. The three of you had a chance to have a conversation, now it was his turn. He swung a hand over his shoulder and grabbed ahold of your wrist. “See ya, boys." 

“Y/N, don’t you dare—” 

Before you could hear the man protest for you to stay in the car, you found yourself somewhere else. Your eyes wandered around your new surroundings, a forest from the looks of it. The scenery was peaceful looking. The sky was a bright blue, the sun was shining. Sounds of wildlife all around you. For the first time since you got here you felt a sort of peace. You looked around for a moment before you settled your gaze on the man you saw once before back in hell after you rescued him. It felt sort of odd that he was part of yourself that you thought about when the situation called for it. When you took the deal for Dean to save him from hell, the apocalypse. Your death was to benefit everyone in the long run. But it felt like you needed to discuss it. 

“Yip, yip, yip. Am I right?” Bobby asked, cracking a smile from the debacle he saved you from. 

“Honestly, Bobby, I—” You let out a heavy sigh from the emotional conflict you were having inside your own brain. “I don’t know what’s right.”

"Let’s walk, kid.” Bobby placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you down the path deep into the forest, leading you to a reason why death wasn’t so bad.

\+ + +

Dean wasn’t sure what his end goal was here. His focus had been hazy over the past two days, yesterday he was making funeral arrangements. And today he was sending a prayer to any angel who would help. If one was stupid enough to show their faces. Desperate times. All he cared about was getting you back on the mend. No matter what he had to do, he just wanted to reach a point where he could breathe a little easier. Maybe he was being selfish. It wasn’t that he was forgetting about his child. He couldn’t stop thinking about that poor thing. He planned out what life would be like would be like when they got here. He was honestly ready. Sometimes life makes decisions for you. And while it heartbreaking, sometimes that’s just how it was. He wasn’t sure how many times the universe was going to tell him that he wasn’t ever going to have it all. 

Sam had no clue what his brother had done. The man was still in the dark about the plan Dean had hatched up after he lost it on the doctor. He wasn’t sure how the younger man was going to react when he told him the news. Sam might have turned his back on him the year before, but the bad blood between them was long gone. The both of them just wanted to see you get better. And knowing his little brother, Sam was probably already thinking of ways to get you back on your feet. Some things never changed. The three of you would do just about anything for each other. Even if it meant trusting something you despised. 

Dean leaned against the window frame as he patiently waited for something to happen. His gaze kept jumping up from the floor each time someone passed by the open door to your room. Sam had left to go get some coffee after his brother suggested it. He hoped that an angel would come by while the man was gone. Maybe it would make explaining the plan he made up a little easier to see that they had a friend on their side. 

The older Winchester looked up from the spot on the ground he had been staring at for a few minutes when he noticed the door open. He pushed himself off the window ledge he had been leaning against at the sight of someone that wasn’t Sam, it was a complete stranger. The sight of her made a sense of hope bloom in his chest. A woman stood in the doorway of your hospital room, someone, who at first glance, seemed like the person of person an angel would possess. She offered the man a kind smile when she noticed the expression on his face.

“Hi. I’m just gonna break the ice.” Dean said, jumping straight to the question he had been eager to ask since he sent out that prayer. He had little time to waste. “Are you an angel?”

“Sometimes I wish I were.” The woman responded with a quiet chuckle at his peculiar way of greeting her. “My name is Kim Schortz, and I’m a grief counselor here at the hospital.”

“Right. Yeah. Uh…Sorry. I’m just tired.” Dean felt a little foolish at what he said to a complete stranger. He brushed it off with an excuse about being exhausted. And it was true. He just wanted her to get the hint that he didn’t need her. “Well, all due respect, but, uh, I’m not the kind of person who shares my feelings. And I’m not grieving—not yet at least, so—”

“I’m afraid, as hard as it may be, this might be a good time to talk…about the inevitable for your wife.” Kim slowly eased the conversation topic most found hard in the situation when a loved one wasn’t doing well as they expected. Denial was a tremendous part of grief. She watched as Dean’s expression began to change, his body stiffened at the possibility things weren’t going to work out for him. “What you are going through…the pain you had to endure. I’m sure there are no words to describe what you’re feeling at the moment." 

"I don’t need your sympathy.” Dean nearly hissed at the woman. He tightened his jaw at the reaction she got out of him. He was doing everything in his power to keep his head on straight and focus on what mattered to him. 

“You lost your child. You must be hurting.” Kim softly spoke to him as if he were a child, in need to be instructed on how to properly handle a situation like this. “It’s okay to let your grief show. Whatever you’re feeling, just know that it’s natural." 

"Like I told you, I’m not the sharing type.” Dean told her. His tone of voice was cold and harsh, giving her just a brief glimpse into what kind of mindstate he was in at the moment. “And besides, who the hell do you think you are coming in here and telling me how I should feel? Do you want me to cry? Let me tell you something. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

Kim’s expression began to change at the attitude he was giving her from offering a safe space to talk to her out in the open. She had dealt with a fair share of parents who had lost a child, whether it be due to stillbirth or a sickness that caused the young child to pass on early. Almost every occasion the parent was broken up inside, the sadness was too unbearable to hide. It demanded to be felt. Either Dean was the master of it, or he was truly in denial about what was going on. He was acting as if he could fix this problem. Yes, miracles happen. She had seen a few people who thought they were in Death’s grip get a second chance at life. They were able to walk out of here and enjoy this new opportunity they never thought possible. But that didn’t apply to Dean’s situation. Miracles were for the living.

Dean understood that his reaction to this situation wasn’t normal. He wanted to tell the woman that he had dealt with grief so many times before in his that to the point where it felt like a second nature. He knew this pain of losing his child, it was nothing he had ever faced before. It felt like a part of him was ripped out from him. That little aspiration he found himself growing when you told him you were pregnant was gone. The little hole in his heart where the pregnancy filled his loneliness, the doubt about things always looking bleak was just that again. Empty, full of pain he was never going to heal from. Every part of him wanted to sit down and admit defeat. But that wasn’t how Winchesters handle grief. 

Dean still had just enough sanity to fix this situation. In a sick, twisted way…he was holding out hope that things would end up working out like he planned. An angel would come to heal you. And maybe, by some miracle, they could bring back the child that could have been yours. All of this would have been a distant memory. Dean knew better than setting that as an achievable goal. That was a dream, at best. Sort of like yearning for a normal life. You could get it, until it implodes in your face. Dean was taking his chances on what he could get back, what he thought was the only thing that he could have. He just wanted you back. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just you’re in a fragile state right now.” Kim said. “When people have been in traumatic situations like this, their grief tends to make them do…drastic things. Things that you’ll regret. if that makes sense.” 

“If you’re worried that I’m gonna off myself, you can relax.” Dean said. A few seconds after the words came out of his mouth he felt a twinge of guilt at the brunt remark he made. “I’ve been down this road before.”

“Doesn’t matter how many times we lose someone, the pain never gets any easier.” Kim replied, presuming that might be the reason why he was acting like this. 

“I’m not grieving for someone who’s not dead.” Dean shot back at her. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice person and that you mean well, but ‘inevitable’—that’s a fightin’ word where I come from. There’s always a way.”

“And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next, but I also know how to read an EEG.” Kim said. “And unless you’re telling me you have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for—“

“Yeah, no, I, uh… Guess I don’t.” Dean was beginning to realize that maybe his plan wasn’t as clever as he thought it was going to be. When one fails, always have another as a backup. “But I might have something better. I got the King of Hell in my trunk.”

Kim was left in a confused state from the words that fell out from the man’s mouth. She watched as he headed out of the room without much more of an explanation. A few seconds later Sam returned from the cafeteria to discover his brother was gone, in his place was a woman he had never met before. Sam continued to hold the two scolding hot cups of coffee and gave the woman a confused expression, wondering who the hell she was. 

“My name is Kim. I’m a grief counselor with the hospital. I was just here talking to your brother.” The woman reintroduced herself to the younger Winchester, stating the reason why she was here. Sam noticed how well it went from the sigh that escaped her lips a few seconds later. “He’s a strange man. You should go find him. The things he said…they don’t make any sense.”

“He’s been under a lot of stress the past few days. We both have.” Sam said. He came up with the first excuse that slipped out of his mouth, surprising himself with how he managed to come up with something when he was so tired. “What…exactly did he say to you?”

“Something about angels. And the king of hell? Whatever that means.” She replied. She shook her head, not bothering to try and make sense of the gibberish. “Is that some kind of metaphor?”

Sam’s face dropped at the mention of those two things. Without bothering to give an explanation, he set down the cups of coffee on top of nightstand next to the bed and dashed out of the room, leaving the consular all alone, wondering to herself what must be going through the family’s mind right now to be acting so strange. She turned her head to catch a glimpse of you. A frown found its way on her lips at the sight of you. It was heartbreaking to see someone like this. She wondered to herself if you somehow, by a miracle of modern medicine and Go himself, you pulled through. What kind of pain would be waiting for you. 

Dean made it down to the parking garage quick as he possibly could. If angels didn’t want to answer his prayers, so be it. He had the next best thing in his trunk. Crowley was a weeping mess. Dean was sure once he told the demon what went down getting him to make a deal with one of his goons would have been easy. If he had to sell his own soul so you could live, this wouldn’t be the first time he went down that route before. He was willing to take those chances. At this point Dean felt like had proven that he was willing to do just about anything to get you back. 

Dean approached the trunk of the Impala as he cautiously looked around the place, wanting to make absolutely sure he was alone from what he was about to do. When it was just himself out in the open, Dean pounded his fist against the trunk a few times, rattling the demon from his solitary. 

“Crowley, listen up, you son of a bitch. One for yes, two for no. You alive?” Dean asked the demon. He waited for a second to see if he could get a response. When there was nothing but silence, Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Come on, don’t be a pouter.” Finally, Dean felt the metal shake underneath his touch when Crowley responded a moment later. “There you go.”

Right as Dean was about to open the trunk and have a little chat with the demon, someone decided they wanted to go first. Dean felt his body stiffen when he felt something sharp press against the hollow of his throat, and a looming presence behind. He got a clue who it might be when the stranger spoke. “You prayed?”

“Yeah, for help.” Dean replied to the angel. 

“Yes. You’ll be helping me.” The angel said. It seemed the hunter’s words were lost in translation at what he meant by owing one of them a favor. The angel wanted help first, and he had no intentions of returning the gesture. Dean felt his face roughly hit the trunk when he was slammed down, before he could do anything stupid, the angel pinned him down with a tight grip on the back of his neck. “If you lie to me, Dean Winchester, I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?”

“Who’s asking?” Dean wondered. 

“Try every angel who was ejected from their home.” The angel said. 

“Oh. Oh, well, in that case,” Dean thought his sarcastic comebacks were appropriate for the situation he was currently in. “I have no clue.”

Dean’s humor didn’t go over well with the angel. He found himself being roughly lifted and thrown against the hood of the car a few times to show him that there was no room for jokes. The angel was ready to smite the hunter once and for all for the trouble he caused. As he drew up the blade into the air, he was stopped by another stranger, 

“Easy there, brother.” Another angel came to the man’s rescue before he could bleed out onto the parking lot ground like the other one wanted. His fellow brother turned around to face a sibling. “This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath or compassion? I would argue the latter.”

Giving his fellow brother a sign that his words meant something, the angel lifted his hand up from Dean’s neck and raised it in the air. For a moment it seemed that things might go smoothly this time. But it never did. The angel didn’t want to be kind. He wanted revenge for being thrown out of his home. He punched his brother in the face hard enough to inflict pain, ready to do what needed to be done to get what he wanted. And that was the other angel who was the cause behind all of the madness. 

“Come now.” The other angel brushed off the attack as he stood back up. “Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the fall?”

The angel didn’t care about formalities anymore. A fight broke out between brothers when he tried to stab the one who wanted to come in peace. Dean noticed the angel blade fell to the ground while the two of them went at one another. However one angel proved to be stronger than the other when he roughly flung his brother into a minivan parked a few feet away, the impact breaking the glass. Before he could smite his brother, someone was quicker, grabbing the blade from the ground and stabbing the angel in the back, killing him in a blinding light before throwing his lifeless body to the ground. Another Winchester stood with the bloody weapon by his side, coming to his own brother’s rescue after hearing the entire situation go down. 

“Who are you?” He questioned him. 

“Never mind me. You’re Dean Winchester.” The angel said, still leaning against the minivan as he addressed the older man. “I heard your prayer, and I am here to help.” 

The brothers watched as the angel proved how much use he was to them. He slowly sank to the ground and passed out from the injuries he sustained from the fight. Dean was rather amused at what just went down, meanwhile Sam gave his brother a cautious look from the things he heard. The man was planning something behind his back. And knowing Dean, it wasn’t something good. 

\+ + +

“So were you just gonna stand there the entire time and watch me get my ass kicked?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Sam dropped the unconscious angel to the ground after finding an empty spot in the garage that was abandoned by any strangers. It was a perfect space for what they were about to do. Dean barely said much about the things his little brother overheard, too focused on the lack of back up he was given. Sam roughly snatched the holy oil out from Dean’s grip and circled around the angel to make a trap. As he got halfway around, he tossed his older brother an impatient glance, waiting for a response for what the man had done behind his back. 

Sam had every right to know what his brother was planning. And yet there was a part of him that was feeling like Dean was blocking him out again. Making him reflect back on how their dynamic was after being reunited after Dean came back from purgatory. The distrust his brother had the anger for what he didn’t do. He wondered if it happened again. He failed his brother when he trusted him the most with something far more important than his own life. 

“Look, I take the full blame for what happened back at the church. I do.” Sam decided it was time to clean with the guilt he had been harboring since they got to the hospital. He figured that’s what his brother was doing down here. Putting himself in harm’s way to save a life. were always selfish dicks, and the only way a demon could revive someone back from the dead was to sell their soul. “Whatever you were trying to do…what deal you were gonna make, I’ll do it. All of this is my fault.”

“What? I don’t blame you. I would never blame you for something like this, man. We didn’t know this was gonna happen. None of us did.” Dean gave his little brother the honest truth. Never in a million would he have a feeling like that. “If anything, this is my problem. I gotta make things right." 

Sam felt his body stiffen as he finished up the circle of holy oil. He hated what he was about to ask, but if he didn’t, he feared his brother was about to do something stupid. "What were you planning on doing?”

“I prayed to Cas, hoping he would get his feathery ass down here. And when they didn’t work, I sent out an open prayer for any angel dick who would help us. When that didn’t work, I was gonna come down here and have Crowley summon one of his goons. Get one of them to spruce Y/N back up.” Dean explained his plan was a little too much ease in his voice, like he was telling his brother about how to fix a simple solution. Sam stared at his brother for a few seconds, the look on his face wasn’t showing Dean that was agreeing to this plan. “Sammy, you know how these things go. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about fixing this.”

“’Fixing this’? Dean, do you hear yourself? Y/N’s lying in a hospital bed on the edge of death. You—You…” Sam couldn’t get himself to say the words that made him feel uneasy. He inhaled a deep breath before continuing to speak. “You’re going through a lot right now. Maybe we need to process things. Figure out the right thing to do.” 

“The right thing to do is getting Y/N better. She would do the same for us. Hell, she has.” Dean didn’t want to hear the speech about letting you go. He couldn’t stomach the idea. He couldn’t think of a life without you. “And as for everything else…It would’ve never worked. It never does. You know that better than anyone.” 

“Dean, this wasn’t some kid you looked after for a year. They weren’t some monster you made after you accidentally a bad one night stand. This was our own family. Your flesh and blood. And it’s gone—just like that.” Sam found himself unable to comprehend with how he was handling at everything that went down over the past few days. His brother never liked to show his emotions, but his was too calm for even Sam’s liking. “How can you not care?”

“You don’t think I care? Is that what you think? You have no clue what the hell I’ve been through the past couple of days. You didn’t think it killed me when I had to make the funeral arrangements? Or how painful it was to not hear the baby cry when they delivered them?” Dean threw question after question at his brother, each one growing more painful as his voice grew harder. "I thought that everything might be different for us. I really did. But guess what? It’s not. It never will be.”

Sam felt a pang of regret at the words that came out of his brother’s mouth, wishing he never said anything. It was a glimpse into what Dean’s mindframe was like after everything that was happening. "’m not cut out to be a father. We’re never gonna get a normal life. This is the life we’ve got and I’m sticking to it. I don’t have anything else grounding me except for you and Y/N. I can’t live without her. And you know you can’t live without her.” Dean continued on, not giving his brother a chance to get a word in. “And you really think we could raise a kid? Do you know how screwed up we turned out to be? I can’t do that. I don’t want to be like Dad.” 

”You’re not.” Sam said, shaking his head. “You’re nothing like him. You would’ve done a great job. You practically raised me on your own. You looked after Ben and he was okay—” 

“That kid nearly died because of me. And you had to shoot Emma. Sam, I’ve looked at his from every single angle. It never works out.” Dean argued with his brother. “This is just how it’s gotta be.” 

“Do you really want to do that to her?” Sam couldn’t help himself but ask his brother. In that moment he realized the reason why that maybe letting you go wouldn’t be so bad. Much as it would hurt, letting you live would be harder. “You’ve been looking at this from your point of view. We always do these kind of things for our benefit. And mostly it’s been okay…but this time it’s different. How do you think she’s gonna feel when she finds out what happened? Do you really think she’s gonna be happy for what we did?”

Dean slowly moved his gaze away from his brother from his question. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter to set the holy oil on fire. Sam hated how his brother got like this. He always tried to ignore the conversation when it veered into a direction that made him look at the consequences of his actions. Or his feelings that he pretended to have. Sam wanted to be the voice of reason here, because that’s what he did. He always had to do the right thing. But there were times that he was selfish in his own ways. More than once he turned his back on his family. Deep down, Sam knew his brother was right about not being able to live without you. 

He was so used to the way things were. This family was messed up beyond reason. All of you were too dependent on one another. Your lives were constantly at risk of ending for good. And while each of you put on a strong face that you were ready for death, there was always a part of you that wasn’t. Because everything you cared about life was on here. You still weren’t ready to give up the big fight and let the people you loved feel the grief. All of you lost too many people in your life. You would do anything to keep what you had. And the boys were. They were keeping what they knew, what they thought they could keep. 

Sam let the argument between the both of them simmer down when they noticed the angel slowly began to come back around. All though he was weak, he was rendered human as the body he inhabited when he noticed the flaming circle around him, making him trapped. He quickly turned his head to the direction of the voice when the older Winchester spoke.

“You want to help?” Dean asked the angel. “Start with a name.” 

“Ezekiel.” The angel responded.

“All right, Ezekiel. How do I know you’re not hunting me or Castiel like the other angels?” The older Winchester asked yet another question. 

“Oh, I’m sure there are many more angels who are.” Ezekiel said. “Many more are on their way here, most likely.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam wondered, taking everything the angel was saying with a grain of salt. 

“You put out an open prayer like that…”

“I must be desperate.” Dean finished what the angel was leading to. From what happened a few days ago he should’ve known that he wasn’t going to be in good standing with them. All of you managed to piss off heaven and hell. Things were looking bleak. The usual way of solving things didn’t seem like it was possible, however Ezekial wasn’t like his brothers and sisters. If given the chance, he wanted to prove himself to them. 

“Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission.” Ezekial said. He pushed himself up to his feet as he continued on. “And that means we believe in Castiel…and you.”

“You said you were hurt doing the fall.” Dean said. 

“I was. Entangling with my brother back there did me no favors.” Ezekial admitted. “But what strength I have left, I offer to you.” 

The brothers slowly looked over at one another from the choice they had to make. Dean wasn’t exactly feeling confident at the angel’s words, Sam wanted to say no to this entire plan. But he knew the older man was right in a twisted kind of way. Normal lives, no matter the aspect, never worked out in the end. This was how the way things went, how they always did. 

\+ + +

You weren’t exactly sure if there was any words that could describe the feelings you had at the moment. You and Bobby walked through the forest as you went on the path, not exactly sure where it was leading you. Part of you wanted to fight and keep going on with life. Because you knew what was waiting for you on the surface. The boys, a world out there with so many things you loved. And yet…another part of you felt there was nothing else to live for. Six months you spent mentally preparing yourself for a change in your life that you never thought was going to come. You got yourself excited over the thought of being given a chance to create another life with the person you love. To be able to shun away the demons that ruined your life. But all of it went crashing down. 

You felt defeated. All of your hard work had turned out to be a waste. You trusted the wrong people. Not only did you put your own life on the line, but the little life you had been carrying for those six months. They had been part of the journey the entire time. What you did to your body they had to endure as well. While you wanted to tell yourself that it would all work out in the end, clearly it didn’t. You would never be able to shake off the guilt of what you had done. You killed your own baby. The innocent creature who depended on you to protect them. And you failed. How could you live knowing they would never be given a proper chance to grow up? Live a life, no matter the danger? You chose their fate for them. 

“I want to fight. I do.” You admitted to Bobby. “But it just feel like…” 

“Like you got nothing left to swing at? Like you’re punching shadows?” Bobby took a wild guess at where you were going with. You shrugged your shoulders, knowing that was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more. “You gotta let go of the fightin’ and scratchin’ and lookin’ for loopholes, ‘cause that ain’t happen’.” 

“So, what?” You asked him. “I just die?” 

“‘Just die’? All the good you’ve done, all the people you’ve saved, all the sacrifices you’ve made? You saved the world, kid. Much as you don’t think so, you did. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they said ‘screw you’ to the devil and left this God-forsaken hunk of dirt that much of a better place? What you call dyin’ I call leaving a legacy. ” Bobby raised some good points that made you reflect on your choice you had to make. While it was better to end on a good note, you still weren’t sure. You still had people up there who needed you. “The boys will be fine. And you won’t be up alone up there.”

“Soulmates share a heaven. I know.” You said, remembering back to the case you had worked on what felt like a decade ago. A smile tugged at the lips when you remembered learning about how you and Dean were soulmates. And how one day the both of you might be together forever in peaceful harmony. “But I can’t just abandon them, Bobby.”

“I wasn’t talking about Dean.” Bobby said. You furrowed your brow slightly from where this conversation was going. “Come on. We’re almost there. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

\+ + +

Dean watched as Ezekiel stood over your bed, assessing the damage that was done to your body. There was only so much the human eye could see. He placed a hand on your upper chest to take a deeper look inside. Sam watched as the angel took a moment to figure out what needed to be done in order to fix you. Cas had warned you that the damage to your body while you were still doing the trials was irreversible from his own abilities. He wasn’t sure what Ezekiel could do to help. But he gave the angel the benefit of the doubt, he wanted to help. So he was going to let him. 

“You still able to cure things after the fall?” Sam asked the angel.

“Yes, I should be, but…” Ezekial continued to observe what little strength you had left. It was far worse than he imagined it to be. “She’s so weak.”

Dean forced himself to believe those words were something positive. You were still holding on in there, clawing your way at life like you always did. His attention drifted away from you when he heard his phone going off. Pulling it out from his pocket, he noticed it was from a number he didn’t recognize before answering. “Who is this?”

“Dean.” The voice on the other end was one he was familiar with, someone he had been trying to reach just an hour ago. 

Sam turned his head and gave his brother a confused look at who he was talking to. Dean mumbled the name of a familiar angel before slipping out of the room and out into the hall. “Cas, what the hell’s going on?”

“Metatron tricked me. It wasn’t angel trials. It was a spell.” Cas came clean with the truth about what the man had participated in after the angel asked for his help. “I wanted you to know.” 

“Okay. That’s great, but we’ve got ourselves a problem.” Dean said. The angel could hear the change in the man’s voice, leading him to ask what was wrong. There was a small pause between the both of them as Dean wandered over to a quiet space in the hall that was near a window. “Y/N. She’s, um—they say she’s dying.” 

“What happened?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, at first she was okay, and then she wasn’t.” Dean said, giving the angel an update on the things that he missed out on. “Have you heard my prayers? Sam and I have been praying to you for two days straight.” 

“Dean, Metatron—he—he too my grace.” Cas delivered some unfortunate news that didn’t help the stressful situation Dean was already in. The older Wincester was taken aback from hearing, however the angel reassured him. “Don’t worry about me. What are you doing for Y/N?” 

“Uh, everything I can.”Dean said. “There’s actually another angel in there working on her right now.” 

“What other angel?” Cas asked. 

“Uh, his name is Ezekiel.” Dean answered. “He’s cool. I mean, I think he is. Sam’s in the room with him, making sure he won’t do anything stupid.” 

“Ezekial. Yes. He’s a good soldier.” Cas said. It gave Dean some hope that the angel was worth trusting. “He should be able to help until I get there.” 

“Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that’s not an option.” Dean shot down the idea. The angel knew the trip might take a few days, but that wasn’t what the man was worried about. “Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? And they’re looking for you, and they’re pissed.”

“Not all of them, Dean.” Cas said. “Some of them are looking for direction. Some are just lost.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“I met one.” Cas said. “I think I can help her, Dean.” 

“No, Cas. I know you want to help, okay? I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I’m begging you—for once, look out for yourself.” Dean gave the angel some advice he desperately hoped he would take. “Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.” 

“And do what?” The angel questioned him. “Just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas. You hearing yourself? There’s a war on, and it’s on you. There’s thousands of them out th—you said you lost your grace, right? That means you’re human.” Dean didn’t have time to talk to the angel about what he needed to do. “That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before.” 

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas tried to reassure him. 

However it seemed the pissed off angels Dean he was warning about might have been closer than he realized. He felt the ground beneath his feet began to shake, in mere seconds, the entire building began to tremble. “I think we got more company.” Dean told the angel on the other line. “Look, get your ass to the bunker alone. You hear me?”

There was no wiggle room for the angel to negotiate about bringing friends along. Dean ended the call and got back to your room to figure out what was going on. He noticed Ezekial was peering out the window to see if he might be able to catch a glimpse of a sibling. 

“One of yours?” Dean asked the angel. 

“Trying to secure a vessel.” He said. “We need to move.” 

“No, no.” Sam shot down the angel’s idea. “If we move her, she dies.” 

“If we stay, we could all die.” Ezekial warned. 

Dean knew there was one way to keep out unwanted company. He went over to the white board and grabbed a marker. He went up to a blank wall and began to draw out a symbol that would ward out any angel from coming in. When Sam figured out what his brother was doing, he grabbed the other marker, both of them worked together to cover every space on the wall with every sigil they knew that worked against angels. 

“Long as these are up, no angels are coming in.” Dean said, throwing the marker across the room with little care where it ended up. “No one’s coming out. You gonna be okay with these?”

“I’ll manage.” Ezekial reassured the brothers. He fell silent for a moment as he glanced around the room, picking up a shift in the atmosphere they couldn’t feel. “They’re here.” 

“Okay. Do not open this door for anybody but me and Sam.” Dean instructed to the angel. He made his way over to the door and placed his hand on the knob, but before he left, he gave Ezekial one more command. “Save her, you hear me?”

The boys made their way outside into the hall where chaos among the hospital staff and patients began to unravel. There was little time before things got even worse, they needed to get everybody out before it did. Windows began exploding when they started running down the hall as the high pitched noise began to grow painfully louder. Dean managed to cover his face from the flying debris as he watched people scurrying around for an exit. Knowing there was one way for sure to evaluate the building, Dean raced over to a fire alarm and pulled the trigger, letting a warning bell drown out the other noise. 

“Everybody out!” Dean shouted out at the bystanders. “Now!” 

Nobody questioned his authority as he watched people tried to get out before things got worse. Sam made his way over to the small crowd to make sure they escaped safely while Dean lingered behind for a moment, scanning the rest of the hallway to see if there was any lingering bystanders. However he found himself shield his body from more glass when another window broke behind him, warning him that trouble was getting closer. 

When he recovered and brushed off the rest of the glass, Dean began to walk around the halls, wanting to make sure he got everyone out as Sam ushered a group of people to a fire exit. Dean headed over to the nurses’ station to see Kim from earlier was lying on the ground face down covered in glass. He made his way over to her and crouched down to help the woman up to her feet. 

“Hey. You got to get out of here. Come on. Come on.” He told the woman. Kim dusted off the glass and safely got back up. The both of them managed to take a few steps before Dean found himself facing trouble. An angel holding a blade was blocking his way from going anywhere. Dean looked over his shoulder and to the woman. “Stay behind him.” 

If the angel wanted to fight, Dean was already for one. He pulled out his own blade from inside his jacket and got ready to make the first move, however he seemed to fail to realize that the fight was two against one. Kim managed to knock the blade out from Dean’s grip and twist the man around so he was facing her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed him by his throat, lifting the man up so his feet were dangling in the air. 

“Or not.” She replied to his command. “Oh, Dean Winchester. You and your brother are in a world of trouble.”

\+ + +

You wondered what was so important in the afterlife that you didn’t have back on earth. Thinking about it made you become split in the middle of what the right thing to do was. The boys were always the reason why you kept on fighting for a chance to see another day. There had to be a way to fix all of this for your family, there always was. You found a clearing through the trees as you approached what appeared to be a cute little cabin just several yards ahead. The sight seemed a little odd from what your mind came up with. However it wasn’t about the journey, it was about the destination. You took a few steps head, brushing past a tree branch before stopping in your tracks again.

You turned around to face the older man, wondering what else he was going to say to try and explain the situation you were about to walk in. However it seemed you didn’t need to say anything to figure out what was going on. You heard a sound that was almost like music to your ears. The noise that made your heart suddenly start pounding faster in your chest. The sound was of a baby crying. You slowly turned back around when you heard the noise echo to where you were standing. Every bone in your body knew that cry. 

“Told you there was someone waiting to meet you.” Bobby’s voice broke your concentration away from the cabin when you heard him speak. You looked back over to see that he was smiling at the connection you had made all on your own. It was a mother’s intuition to know. “Everything inside you need to help you on your way.” You wanted to go into that cabin and find out for yourself, to be greeted by the person you had been eager to see with your own eyes. To hold them. But it seemed you suddenly got cold feet from what you were about to do. Because you knew what you had to agree with in order to spend the rest of eternity with them. “Go on, kid. I’ll be waiting for you with a couple of cold ones." 

You felt a smile tug at the ends of your lips from his promise that didn’t seem so bad. Death was scary, the idea of leaving your life back on earth behind was going to be hard. But you weren’t going to be alone forever. You weren’t going to hell to face an eternity of misery. While you were ready to take the plunge, it seemed not every part of you agreed with the plan. There would always be a part of you that wanted to fight. 

Your smile quickly fell off your face when you noticed a knife was suddenly shoved into Bobby’s chest without warning. You looked to see that it was Dean holding the knife—the logical part of you, the one who tried to find a way out of situations like this where you were dying. Dean watched as Bobby fell to the ground, all before vanishing from sight. It seemed your conversation with him wasn’t over yet. He had a few more words to say to try and knock some sense into you before you did anything stupid by throwing your entire life away. 

"Sorry, old man.” Dean apologized to the man, as if any of this was real. 

“Dean, are you insane?!” You snapped at him, wondering why he would have done such a thing. He could try his hardest to make you change your mind and forget about this journey, but you weren’t going to back down. If you were right about what was waiting for you inside, there was no way you could abandon this only chance at meeting them. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Bobby was the part of you that wants to die.” Dean tried talking you off the ledge one last time. He knew the logical part of you won this fight in the long run. Not this time. “I know it stings, but he had to go.”

“No. You have to go. When are you gonna realize it’s over?” You questioned him, walking over to him to hear what brillant answer that he had. What possibly was there waiting for you up there? Monsters to fight, endless pain and misery. A life without your child. “Dean, I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting to keep holding on the bare minimum. I tried so hard to make things right. And it backfired in my face. There’s nothing left to fight for, and you know that!”

"No, see, I know you don’t believe that.” Dean said. He might have been part of you, but at the moment all you saw was the man you loved since you were little. The person you fought to keep in your life. You hated how he got like this; depressed. Hopeless. Stuck with the thought that there was nothing left to fight for. You finally understood the pain. You gave it your all, and you were done. 

“Really?” You scoffed. “Then what’s your big plan, Dean?”

“My plan?” Dean chuckled to himself, pretending to think for a moment of the proper response you wanted to hear. Instead you felt a sudden rush of pain as you stumbled back a few inches, making you realize Dean punched you. Never in your entire life had he hit you. But this wasn’t real life. And this wasn’t Dean. “My plan is to fight! My plan is to try?” He shoved you back and threw another punch when you tried to recover. He was knocking some sense into you. “My plan is to give a damn!” When he was satisfied with the small beating, he roughly grabbed ahold of your shirt and forced you to look him straight in the eye. “Are you telling me there’s nothing? Huh? You telling me there’s nothing left to fight for, that there’s nothing to hope for?!”

“No. I’m telling you there is.” You told him in a calm tone of voice. You slowly moved your hands so they were resting on his own, trying to soften the blow from what you were about to do. “You might not like it, you might not accept it, but it’s in there. It’s in that house." 

"You know what’s in that house!” Dean reminded you of the choice you were about to make. He shook you in some kind of attempt to reach you before it was too late. “Now I can’t help you if you ain’t willing to fight for yourself!”

“I tried. You tried so damn hard to do it our way. I fought tooth and nail to make this right. But I didn’t. I failed. Dean, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.” You admitted to him about the true feelings that you didn’t quite realize you had until you were here. “I love you, Dean. Sammy, too. You both are the best thing that I ever happened to me. You were always the reason why I kept fighting. But you know what’s in there. It’s our child, Dean. I can’t leave them.” You inhaled a shaky breath as you slowly reached to cup Dean’s face. “I need to do this. It’s what I want. We’ll be back together one day. I promise. Just…let me go. Please" 

You could feel your heartbreaking at the sight of Dean’s face from the final goodbye you were giving him for now. You leaned over to give him a short but sweet kiss before you pulled away. You swallowed down the lump in your throat when you saw him disappear from your touch when you settled with the choice you made. Inhaling a deep breath, you turned around in your spot and faced the cabin. A smile spread across your lips at the sight that was waiting for you. 

"Mom.” You whispered the title of the woman who had raised you since birth. The person you missed everyday since she passed away. And while you had your grudges against her for the things she had done, the woman standing on the front porch of the cabin was still your mother. She was someone you would always love, no matter what. 

You saw her wave at you with her free hand as she held something close to her chest with her other arm. You began walking over to the cabin with nothing standing in your way and headed up the stairs. Your eyes drifted away from the face you had wished to see just one more time, and to the thing she was holding. You felt overwhelmed with emotions they were making you feel at the sight of them. A tenderness from how important this very moment was. You heart was full of love for them made you feel happier than you had been in a long time. The tiny little thing wrapped up in a pale yellow blanket and a small hat was something you created with Dean. You walked over to your mother and took the first glimpse of your child.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.” Your mother greeted you for the first time in seventeen years. She sounded the same as you remembered. You looked away from your baby and to your mother, getting a glimpse of her, wanting to create a picture that would last forever. You could feel your eyes beginning to glaze over at how she looked. She was exactly the same from the last time you saw her…before she died. “Do you want to hold them?”

“What?” You found yourself startled by the simple question. You stared at her like a deer in headlights from the thought of doing such a thing. You took one glance at the sleeping infant, how peaceful they looked. You didn’t want to disturb them. “I—What if I drop them?”

“Come on. Don’t be silly. Hold out your hands like you used to with your dolls. It’s not that scary. Just make sure you’re supporting they’re neck. And this one is sure heavier than you were.” You did as you were told by your mother, positioning your arms out like hers was. A few seconds of trying to make sure everything was right, you heard the baby let out a few noises from the sudden shift in movement before they were resting safely in your arms. You found yourself not saying much of anything for a few seconds as you stared at them, just observing their features. They were so tiny. You expected a laugh to come out from your mouth from what was happening, but the noise that slipped out was a choked sob. They were here. “They’re beautiful. They look so much like Dean when he was a baby.”

You slowly rocked back and forth to keep the baby calm before they slowly fell back into slumber. You knew they were okay from how their chest moved up and down. They were breathing, they were safe. “Mom,” You looked up from your baby and to her, slightly confused at the unexpected turn of events. “What are you doing here? Are you…”

“It’s me. Really me.” She promised you. She reached out a hand to tuck a piece of hair out of your face and behind your ear. “Someone wants to talk to you. Come on. Let’s go inside.” 

You followed behind her when she opened up the door to the cabin that seemed to be holding a mystery guest. The cabin seemed to be nothing special in particular. You glanced around the place as you noticed the interior was a little worn down, yet it had a homey vibe to it. You made your way into the living room where you saw two leather chairs, along with a fireplace that was going. You found yourself stopping dead in your tracks at the sight of someone you had met a few times in your life. You felt your grip around the baby you were carrying tighten. All though his back was turned to you, you knew who it was. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Death turned around to greet you. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

\+ + + 

The Winchesters were no strangers to a beating. They gave plenty of ones with their bare fists, and endured one by the enemy. Dean realized early on his plan of enlisting an angel came with some consequences. He should have figured it out faster that they all might not be kind to him after what he helped participate in. He kicked them out of their home and left them stranded on Earth with no way back. Kim, once a grief counselor who wanted Dean to open up about his feelings, was now more concerned with trying to crack his skull open from how hard of a beating he took by the woman. She may be a small woman, but the angel possessing her knew how to throw a punch to make it feel like a bitch. He was bloody and battered at this point without giving them the answer they wanted to hear, being dragged across the hallway floor without much protest. 

Sam had suffered the same fate of his brother as well. The farmer who had cornered Dean pulled the younger Winchester along the ground, not caring if the floor was covered in broken glass. Far as they were concerned it fit with the punishment the angels were going to give them. They dropped the brothers to the ground when they came back to your room they were trying awfully hard to keep them away from. The angels decided to let the boys catch their breath and feel the bruises they had gotten. It was going to be the very least of their worries from what they had in store for them if neither one of them coughed up a location for their friend. The one who they were more concerned about who was to blame for this entire catastrophe in the first place.

"Let me make this easy,” Kim once again clarified the information they wanted out of the Winchesters so she didn’t have to waste her time with interrogating them. “tell me where Castiel is, or your little girlfriend’s gonna wish she were dead.”

“Yeah, good luck getting past the warding.” Dean warned the angel about the extra step of precaution they took against them. Angels weren’t so subtle about making their announcement, which gave the boys a heads up to make it harder to get inside your room. Kim smiled at the man’s plan. Might have been a little more difficult for them, but it wasn’t impossible.

“But we will.” Kim reassured him. As her brother threw a fist into the safety glass and reached inside for the fire axe used for emergencies, she bent down and picked up the younger Winchester without breaking a sweat. She wanted to look at him straight in the eye from the threat she was going to make sure to keep if they didn’t cooperate. “And when we do, I’m gonna strip off all of your skin first, and your brother’s gonna watch.”

“Yeah, think I’ll pass on that one.” Sam turned down the angel’s offer. Most of his face was swollen and covered in his own blood, but he still had enough dignity left to spit back a remark at her to piss her off even more. “How about you bite me instead?”

Kim didn’t think the insult was the least bit funny. She threw another punch at the man with enough force to send him flying back a few feet. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he lay on the ground for a second or two, using that time to gather some strength to get back up. Maybe it was the exhaustion finally creeping up on him. Perhaps it was the reality of things that were finally settling into his mind that made Sam start to laugh at what had come of his life. He slowly got back up to his knees and looked over at the woman, deciding to ask her a simple question. “Anybody ever tell you you hit like an angel?”

His laughter at his joke was soon cut short when Kim stormed over and showed him who was in charge here. Sam felt her foot kick him straight in his stomach, doing the trick to silencing him for a moment. She watched in content as he fell to the ground without a peep. Kim looked over at her brother and nodded her head, letting him take the first swing into the wooden door. Dean knew there wasn’t much time before they got what they wanted. He slowly used what strength he had left to crawl his way over to the corner wall and push his bloody face against it to sit upright. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. 

“Okay, wait, wait, wait, wait. I’ll tell you where Cas is.” Dean told the angels exactly what they wanted to hear in some kind of plea deal they would go easy on them. Before he let the truth spill, he just needed them to answer one thing. “I just have one question.” 

“Ask.”

“If heaven is locked, then where do you go when I do this?”

Dean slammed his hand down on the sigil he had used plenty of times to banish angels away when they were being a pain in the ass. He managed to draw one with his own blood while his brother distracted them. A burst of white light blinded both of them for a moment as they heard the sound of screams, all before everything turned normal once more. Nobody was left in the hallway except for the both of them. Wherever they ended up, they knew more would be back in their place. 

The boys made their way back into the room to see things were worse from when they were last here. Ezekial sat in the chair by your bed and merely watched as the machines hooked up to your heart and brain were going off like crazy. The sounds they were making wasn’t comforting. Something was going on with you. The angel promised he could fix you. And yet it seemed he wasn’t lifting a mere finger to try and help. But from the sight of him, it seemed that Ezekial tried, but he was far weaker than he realized. 

“What the hell’s happening?” Dean questioned the angel. 

“They just started. And the warding. I’m afraid I’m weaker than I thought.” Ezekial said. The boys thought if they crossed off a sigils that it might help get him back to full power. But it wouldn’t be enough from how your health was spiraling. “I am sorry, Dean." 

“No. No, no, no. No, we had a deal, okay?” Dean reminded the angel on the terms they agreed upon. “Sam and I fight. You save.” 

“And would that I could.” Ezekial said. “I’m just afraid it’s too late.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Sam found himself growing frustrated with anger from how the angel was breaking their promise. “Are you saying there’s no way to save Y/N’s life?”

“No good ways, I’m afraid.” The angel warned them. 

“Well, what are the bad ones?” Dean decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Ezekial turned away from the man, afraid to give him the answer he desired t hear. It wasn’t something they would ever agree to. Dean was too desperate at this point to hear silence. He needed you to get better. "We’re out of options here, man. Good or bad, let me hear them." 

“I cannot promise, but there is a chance I can fix Y/N. From the inside.” Ezekial slowly explained what he was trying to say. Sam’s expression slowly began to change when he figured it out for himself what the angel was tiptoeing around. 

“So, what, you gonna open her up?” Dean questioned the angel. Ezekial slowly shook his head no. And the lightbulb in the older Winchester’s head went off. “What, possession? You want to possess Y/N?”

“I told you.” Ezekial said. 

“No way.” Sam wasted not a second to shoot down the preposterous idea.

“Understood.” Ezekial didn’t fight the younger Winchester’s response. “It’s your call.” 

“No, it’s Y/N’s call.” Dean knew the red tape when it came to these kinds of things. It had to be you who said the word to give the angel your blessing to let him inside. He spent the past two days trying to find a way to get you back…and here it was, staring at him straight in the face. He slowly circled around the bed so he was standing next to your body, staring at your peaceful expression. “There’s no way in hell she’d say yes to being possessed by anything.”

“She would rather die.” Ezekial finished what the brothers didn’t need to say at all. He slowly pushed himself up to his feet and waved a hand, silencing the monitors. The angel had a feeling his services wouldn’t be needed here anymore. “I’ll leave you three alone, then.” 

Sam felt defeated at the way things ended up. He truly hoped that Ezekial would have been more of use to them, but he had to cross the line somewhere. He had been down that road before, being possessed by an angel. While Ezekial seemed like one of the nicer ones, Sam couldn’t put you through that. You spent your entire life with someone hitching around in your body. If you ever found out what they did to you, he had a feeling you would never forgive them. Sam slowly looked away from your face and to his brother. 

Dean stood there for a few moments, deliberating with himself about how badly this could end. He did a lot of stupid things to save the people he loved. But this? This was the biggest step he thought he would have never agreed to. But Dean wasn’t the man he used to be. He couldn’t leave the hospital without you. He told himself he would do anything to get you back. And this was the way. The only way he knew how.

“Wait.” Dean suddenly spoke up, stopping the angel from exiting the room. Sam watched as his brother turned around to face Ezekial. The son of a bitch was about to do something he should have shot down. "If I consider this—and I mean just consider it—I need something, man. You got to prove to me how bad she is.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious—”

“Sam, please.” 

Dean cut off his brother before he could say anything to back him off the edge. Sam gave his brother a look of disbelief at what he was doing without even considering his opinion on the matter. Sam had a feeling no matter what he tried to say the man made up his mind before Ezekial could show him what was going on inside your mind. The younger Winchester watched as Ezekial walked over to your body and placed a hand against your forehead before instructing Dean to close his eyes. The angel used his other free hand to rest it on Dean’s forehead to give him a glimpse of what was about to happen. The very thing he thought you would never agree to. 

\+ + +

On the rare occasions you had been face to face with Death himself, you were exactly your most kindest to him. You felt your body stiffen in fear at the sight of him. He was really here inside of your mind, giving you people that he must’ve known you wanted to see. You slowly wrapped your arms tighter around the baby as you walked inside the cabin. You weren’t sure what kind of game he was playing with you. But even you needed a reaper to collect your soul before you decided it was your time to die. It seemed Death wanted the job.

“I must admit, when I heard it was you, well,” Death stepped away from the fireplace and took a seat, gesturing an arm for you to do as well. “I had to come myself.”

“Where’s the greasy fast food? You always seem to have something when we meet.” You said. You walked over to the seat across from his and slowly sat down so you wouldn’t disturb the baby too much. You pushed down the blanket with a finger to make sure they were all right before looking back up at Death. You stared at the very being that was about to reap your soul. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to give him lip. But his way of doing things wasn’t exactly morally right. “I bet you get off on this. Bringing back my mom? Giving me…”

“Perhaps. But not in the way you assume. I thought a mother should at least meet her child. I know how much you humans adore them when they’re young. And I consider it to be quite an honor to be collecting the likes of Y/N Y/L/N.” Death said. He watched as your attention drifted away from him for a moment as you tend to your child, smiling when they let out a grunt of noise while they slowly fell back into slumber. It was the simplest of things that could amaze a new parent. Everything was so new, so fresh and exciting. The being that you were holding in your hands was something you had created. “I try so hard not to pass judgement at times like this—not my bag, you see, but you…” You looked back up when you realized he was still speaking. “Well played, my girl. And as for your mother…”

"I know what you did, Y/N. The trials, closing the gates of hell—everything.” Your mother spoke up. You looked over at her when she listed off the reasons why you were here in the first place. Why you were holding your child and they weren’t still in your body. Or at least in the nursery ward of a hospital. She gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been in your situation before. I did a lot of stupid things to have a child. Miscarriage after miscarriage. Your father and I tried everything there was. But nothing worked.”

“Until you made a deal with Azazel.” You told her the magic trick that fixed her broken uterus. “You sold yours and Dad’s soul to have me." 

"I know. I screwed up. If I knew what that bastard was planning…I would have never dragged you or your father into this. I would have taken those ten years and be done with it.” Your mother confessed her biggest sin. The thing you had spent years hating her for. You blamed her for the monster that you had become. Now, from the position you were in, you were starting to understand. She wanted you to be safe. And she regretted her decisions. “If I could go back and change what I did, I would. I would have spent those ten years with you and enjoyed every second of it. Being a mother…it changes you. For the better. Do you know what my heaven is like?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Sitting on a beach somewhere?”

“I get to see you grow up, Y/N. From a little infant, to you going off and making your own life.” Your mother gave you a glimpse into her own personal heaven. You felt a smile spread across your lips from how happy she seemed when she reflected on it. “A mother should be with her child. And I am. In my heaven you’re safe. Protected.”

You fell silent for a moment as you reflected on what your mother had just told you. You had skipped out on death so many times. Every time you had a reason to keep fighting. You looked down at the sleeping newborn in your arms. They were yours. You wanted to hold them forever. Be with them. Protect them. But you couldn’t do that if you were to go back to living. You inhaled a deep breath and slowly looked back over at Death. 

"I need to know two things.” You told the reaper. Death slowly leaned forward in his seat, he nodded his head a second later. “If I go with you…” You glanced down at the infant’s sleeping face and back to the man. “Can you promise me that this time will be final? That if I’m dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it, nobody can deal it away…and nobody else can get hurt because of me.”

“And what’s the second thing?” Death asked you.

“I’m guessing I made a decent impression on the Big Man upstairs to give me a spot. But you need to promise me that where I’m going…my baby comes with me.” You gave him the real reason why you weren’t going to give him a fight. You felt your eyes begin to glaze over as you took one more peek at your precious baby. A smile tugged at the ends of your lips from how innocent they were. “We’ll be together…forever.”

Death nodded his head, “I can promise you that.” 

\+ + +

Ezekial lifted his hand off Dean’s forehead when the man got into a glimpse of the final deal you would be making for good. The older Winchester felt more confused than ever before. He kept replaying the sight of you…holding your baby. Looking so happy. He felt his heart aching from the thought of the right thing to do. There was precious time to waste on the right thing to do. If he didn’t work fast enough, you would take that deal with Death. You really were going to give up. You were never going to come back. All for some promise that he wasn’t sure wasn’t even true. For all he knew Death was lying to your face just to nab your soul and forget all about you. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Dean found himself asking your unconscious body. 

“As you can see, there’s not much time.” Ezekial reminded the brothers. 

“I know. Damn it.” Dean muttered in frustration. “I know.”

“What did you see?” Sam asked his brother. 

Dean looked away from the spot he had been staring at for a few seconds when he heard his brother speak. It took another moment for his brain to register the question. “Y/N, talking to Death. He’s trying to reap her soul.” Dean said. “He promised her…”

Sam raised his brow slightly, “What?”

“Y/N and the baby…they’d…” Dean couldn’t get himself to say the words. They felt like poison on his tongue. The thought was too good to be true. His mind twisted the promise into something sinister. “They’d be together. In Heaven.” 

Sam was taken aback at the hefty promise that, at first, sounded too good to be true. All of you were so used to looking for flaws in happiness. Your entire life had been nothing but misery. The people you loved were taken away. You had to fight tooth and nail to keep a scrap of happiness. But if what Dean said was correct, if a mother and child were given a chance to spend eternity in blissful peace…Sam couldn’t say no to that. He inhaled a deep breath, deciding he made up his mind. It was the right thing to do. 

“Maybe it’s time we say our goodbyes.” Sam quietly suggested. He watched as his brother quickly looked over at him, Dean threw daggers at the man for the words that came out of his mouth. “If what you said was true…maybe it won’t be that bad.” 

“Are you seriously giving up? Just like that?” Dean asked his brother. He stared at the man in disbelief at how he was handling this situation. This wasn’t how a Winchester fought. “How many times has Y/N put her life on the line for us?”

“This feels a little different from anything we’ve dealt with before. Selling our souls is one thing. I mean, letting an angel fix her is fine. But this? You want someone we just met today possess her? That’s crossing the line. And you know it.” Sam reminded his brother about the circumstances they were under. 

“This is Y/N we’re talking about! I promised myself I wouldn’t leave without her!” Dean suddenly snapped at his brother from what he was proposing. Every part of him knew that what he was planning was morally wrong. But he couldn’t get himself to agree. He couldn’t lose you. “You can’t tell me you want to leave her like this.” 

“I don’t! It kills me inside knowing she’s dying and there’s nothing I can do about it!” Sam argued back with his brother, raising his voice from the anger that was suddenly coming over him. When he realized how things shifted, he forced himself to inhale a few deep breaths. “You don’t know what it’s like being possessed, Dean. Being trapped in your own skin. Knowing that there’s someone else there. But you know But you know who does? Y/N. And you want to do that to her? Again?” Sam waited for his brother to respond. But the man remained silent. “She’s happy, Dean. For the first time in her life, she got everything she wanted. And you want to take that from her?”

“I don’t know what else to do, Sammy.” Dean whispered to his brother, admitting his defeat to doing things the right way. His brother gave him a glare of disappointment from what he was doing. He turned his attention over to Ezekial. “How will it work?”

“Mutual benefit, I suppose. I heal Y/N while healing myself.” Ezekial explained the process of how it would work if he would agree to this. 

“And when she’s healed?” Dean asked.

“I leave.” Ezekial said. “It’s the best out of a bad situation, Dean.” 

“Even if we said yes, it doesn’t mean anything.” Sam reminded the angel about the red tape. “Y/N would never say yes—not to you." 

Ezekial turned his gaze over to Dean. “But she would say yes to you.” 

\+ + +

For the first time in your entire life you were ready to accept your death. You couldn’t run from it anymore, and you really didn’t want to. You honestly were tired of using the same routine over and over again. You could finally be put to rest. And spend the rest of your days with the person you created. Making sure they were happy. And most importantly, safe.

When you saw Death get up from his seat, you handed over your child to your mother when she offered to take them from you. You got up from your own seat and inhaled a deep breath. "It’s time, Y/N. Shall we?”

“Hold on.” You managed to take all of two steps before you found yourself being interrupted by a voice you thought you had gotten rid of. You turned your head to see that it was Dean. You let out a sigh, wondering how many times you were going to have to say goodbye to him before he could let you rest in peace. “I would have brought cronuts, but time is short, so…” 

“By all means.” Death mumbled in slight annoyance. 

“What’s going on?” You asked him.

“I found a plan.” Dean said. 

You shook your head at whatever half schemed plan he had thought of. “It’s too late. I’m going.” 

“No, no. No, no.” Dean protested before you could shut him out for good. “Listen to me.” 

“No. Why are you even here?” You asked him in frustration. “I’m not fighting this anymore!”

“You have to fight this! I can fix this, okay? But not if you shut me out.” Dean pleaded with you to at least give him a minute of your time before you made a final decision. You had been so set on doing the right thing…of being with your child. You bit the inside of your cheek as Dean looked over to Death. “It’s not her time.” 

“That’s for Y/N to decide.” Death said. 

Suddenly you felt all eyes on you. You swallowed as you turned your head to see your mother staring at you, holding the very thing that made you the reason to say yes. You wanted to be with them…but at the same time, the person you had always fought for stole your attention. “Y/N, listen to me. I made a promise to you in that church. You, me, Sammy, come whatever. Well, hell, if this ain’t whatever…” You could hear what Dean was trying to say, but you still felt your attention gravate to your child. Dean stole it away a second later. “But you gotta let me in, sweetheart. You gotta let me help. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you." 

If Dean found a way to bring you back to life…maybe there was hope. There always was. You slowly looked over at your mother to see she didn’t agree with the plan. She wanted you to accept Death’s offer. Plea out. But that wasn’t your style. You walked over to your sleeping child and bent down to ever so softly place a kiss on their forehead. You weren’t saying goodbye to them. No. You were going to do what a good mother does. Fight. You turned your attention over to Dean, wanting to know what was needed of you to get started. 

“What do I do?” You asked. 

“Is that a yes?” Dean wondered for clarification. 

“Yes.” You answered him with the response he wanted to hear.

Dean reached out to place a hand on your shoulder when you gave him the magic word. You watched as his eyes seemed to shift in color, to a shade of blue you’d see before in something like an angel. Suddenly Dean wasn’t there anymore, in his place was a man you’d never seen before. Before you could ask what was going on, your vision was blinded by a white light.

\+ + +

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended up. It might have been your body walking out of the hospital, making it appear you were back to normal once again. However there was someone else hitching a ride. A mutual benefit for both if things went according to plan. The question lingering on the Winchesters mind was how you were going to handle the news the person healing up your inside was an angel. They were fixing up your damaged organs while you walked around doing everyday tasks, while you were on a hunt. It was more than just an invasion of privacy. This was something you had to deal with your entire life. You always had another passenger in your own body. And the first and only time you were an angel’s meat suit the experience left a bitter memory behind. 

Back when the apocalypse was nipping at your heels, you promised Lucifer your own body to have instead of his original vessel, Sam. You thought you could somehow find a way to save the day before it was too late. Instead the situation veered into a direction worse than you imagined. Sam knew the feeling of being a passenger in your own skin, capable of nothing more than watching as your own hands kill the people you love. Maybe that’s why he was so against this. 

Sam knew that Ezekiel wasn’t Lucifer. There was no angel like the devil himself. But they weren’t exactly kind to the three of you since you knew them. He couldn’t fully trust the angel like Dean had. Ezekiel wasn’t doing this at the kindness of his own heart. Possessing your body meant he could heal himself as well from the fall. It would be a mutual benefit for both parties. The younger man was left wondering what the angel said to you in order for you to have said yes. He most likely tricked you. A harmless way to take control. Ezekial told the boys that he wanted to help mankind. 

“So?” Dean asked the angel after a few minutes of walking out of the hospital with not much trouble. Ezekial had been in your body for the past fifteen minutes after he left his old vessel lying in your bed. He was examining the damage inside of your body, figuring out the extent of what needed to be done. Dean didn’t like the silence. This was his last shot at getting you better and on the mend. “How’s it looking in there?”

“Not good.” The boys knew that it was you speaking, but it was the angel who was in control. He gave them a brief overview of the things that he needed to fix. Sam noticed the angel used a calm, softlike tone when he spoke. It was nothing like you. “There is much work to be done.”

“Yeah, but she’s gonna wake up, right?” Sam asked the angel. 

“She will.” The angel responded 

“So, when she does—what, is she gonna feel you inside, triaging her spleen?” Dean tried to figure out what the whole deal was and how this was going to work. You were most likely going to have lots of questions. A lot of hostility and anger towards him for what he decided to do. 

“She will not feel me, no.” Ezekial said. “There is no reason for Y/N to know I’m in here at all.” 

“You’re joking. No, this is too big.” Sam protested the angel’s idea. “She has a right to know.” 

“And what will she do if you tell her that she is possessed by an angel?” The angel asked him.

Dean stopped walking when he noticed that Ezekial did as well. The older man thought about the answer for a second, wondering what kind of excuse would be good enough for what he had done. Dean knew his choices that he made were going to lead to things he didn’t want to think about. You were going to eat him alive and claw his eyes out for what he had done. But he didn’t regret the choices he made. It was how it had to be. “Well, she’ll have to understand.”

“And if she does not?” Ezekial wondered. Dean fell silent from the lack of a concrete answer he could give the angel. The situation was more fragile than if one of the boys had gotten hurt and it was him who was healing them. There was more personal damage done to your body than Ezekial could heal. “Without her acceptance, Y/N can eject me at any time, especially with me being so weak. And if Y/N does eject me, she will die.” 

Sam wasn’t going to make any promises about keeping this a secret. He didn’t want any of this to happen in the first place. But there was no turning back now. He looked over to his brother, wondering what was going to be his big plan. It was Dean’s idea to do this, it was going to be his call. Dean was apprehensive about keeping you in the dark. He had done this once before with you when you were still a half demon and working for Crowley. It was a messy situation that ended with you in the hospital. He hated doing this to you. But it had to be. He shook his head in defeat.

“Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Y/N’s well enough that she doesn’t need an angelic pacemaker.” Dean decided to compromise with the situation. He let out a heavy sigh and wiped his face with his hands. “Or I find a way to tell her what happened. I…” He looked to the hospital and felt the familiar heaviness on his chest return. “As for her being in the hospital, I have to tell her the truth. I can’t lie to her. She deserves to know.” 

“I can erase it all, if you like.” Ezekial suggested a plan to try and soften the blow. “She will not remember any of the past two days. And as for her pregnancy…I can block out the memories.”

“You can’t just erase six months worth of stuff. That’s not fair. We can’t act like she didn’t just lose a child.” Sam quickly jumped into the conversation before his brother could do something stupid. “She has a right to know.” 

“If I may suggest, we can still tell her.” Ezekial proposed a way to tell the truth, just not admitting all the details. The boys knew the guilt would eat you up inside for the things you had done, what kind of danger you put your baby through. You would take all the blame, think about it constantly until you droze yourself mad. Losing a child when you were so close to giving birth would break you. Instead of ripping off the bandaid and forcing you to face the truth, the angel suggested something to…soften the blow. “I can repress the memories from her mind. Make her believe she had no idea she was pregnant at all. If you understand what I mean.”

The boys slowly nodded their heads. But it didn’t mean they agreed right away to the plan. Both of them were left wondering what the right thing to do was. They were making so many decisions for you. The least they could do was at least grieve for a life that once was. What could have been. Dean felt his jaw tighten at the last choice he was forced to make. He kept telling himself he really wasn’t lying to you. He was protecting you. He shut his eyes and slowly nodded his head, giving the angel permission one last time to do what needed to be done.

\+ + +

The aftermath was going to be the hardest. Dean was warned about it when he got the news about his child’s passing from the doctor. Leaving the hospital without the little person you had been anticipating for nine months to make their arrival. Even if they came a little early, medicine had advanced so much that sometimes babies got fighting chances. Other times…they were taken away from their parents. For no reason at all other than genetics. Sometimes the body couldn’t handle carrying a baby to full term. Sometimes there was no reason at all. You were left with a pile of questions and no shovel to help. But that was life. Try to make sense of what it all means, why certain things happen. All you do is drive yourself mad. Dean learned to accept the tragedies in his life. 

Sam didn’t say a single word to his brother after the three of them piled up into the Impala and drove off, acting as if nothing happened at all. Before they pulled out of the parking garage Dean looked into the rear view to see that you were passed out in the backseat after Ezekial announced he was going to work. You would eventually rise from a slumber, having not a single clue what happened. Most of the day slipped away into the night, and you still hadn’t woken up yet. The boys checked on you every so often to see that you were still breathing. And while you were each time, you still didn’t give any sign that you were going to wake up.

Dean decided to stop for gas in the middle of Pennsylvania when he noticed the tank was starting to get dangerously low. It gave the boys a chance to stretch their legs and enjoy a bit of fresh air after being stuck inside a hospital for two days straight, forced to smell the chemicals they used to clean the place. Your eyelids began to slowly flutter open when you began to come back into consciousness, the real you. You laid against the backseat door with your head pressed against the glass, the angel you were familiar with from the countless times you fell asleep from pure exhaustion. 

You slowly emerged from what like a deep slumber, the kind where you didn’t move for hours, leaving your muscles feeling tense. You managed to lift your head up from the window and wince from the cramp you got. Rubbing the muscle in some sort attempt to ease the pain, you looked around to see the Impala was parked in a gas station from the looks of it. You peeked out the back window to take a glance around when you noticed the boys were in the front seat. Sam was leaning against the hood with his back to you while Dean paid for gas with a stolen credit card. You saw their lips moving and hear their muffled voices, but you couldn’t make out a single word they were saying. From their expressions they seemed stressed out. Exhausted. 

You reached a hand for the door and opened it up, swinging your legs out and pushing yourself up to your feet for the first time in what felt like forever. It felt good to stretch your body out from sitting in the car. Your body felt sore all over the place. You blamed it on from being stuck in the car. Slamming the car door shut, you found it odd when you noticed the boys jumped slightly at the unexpected noise. You greeted them with a smile from their reaction of seeing you and around for the first time 

“Where are we?” You asked them, looking around at the gas station you were at. There was no soul around here except for the three of you. You had to move slowly from the stiff muscles and aches in your body from sitting in the same position for so long. You glanced down at your watch to see that it was a little past midnight. 

“Y/N?” Dean spoke your name in what sounded like a slight nervous tone of voice. You glanced back up at him from how he was acting. You slowly nodded your head, wondering what was going on with him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You admitted to them. You had to lean against the side of the car when you felt the ache in your legs starting to grow worse. “Feels like I’ve been sleeping a week.” 

“Try a day. The pills that the doctor gave you really wore you out.” Dean said. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion at the mention of something you had no recollection of. If you ended up in the hospital, you had a feeling you would remember. “I bet the past couple of days have been a bit of a blur.”

“I guess. I mean,” You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort and shrugged your shoulders. You tried to wrap your head around the fact that you tried your hardest to remember the past two days, but you had no idea how you ended up here. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Sam asked you. 

“The church. Feeling awful. Even when I stopped doing the trials…I got this abdominal pain. It felt like cramps. But ten times worse.” You managed to piece together just enough memories to figure out what happened. And yet not enough to fill in the missing gaps of time over the past forty-eight hours. All of it felt like a blur. “I remember the angels falling. That’s it. But…how—why were we at the hospital? And why does it look like you two were in a fight?”

You finally noticed the bruises on the boys’ face underneath the floresignt lights from above. You stepped forward to expect the busted lip Dean and bruised cheek along with Sam’s black eye. Both of them looked like they had gotten into it with someone. You winced at how painful they must have been. The boys didn’t show any signs they were bothered by it. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Dean tried to ease your worried mind off of him. He grabbed ahold of your wrist when you tried to touch his bottom lip to inspect the damage. You looked over at him when he didn’t answer your question. However you noticed his expression shifted slightly, like he wasn’t telling you everything. He was afraid to. 

“We need to tell you something.” Sam suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. You turned your head to look in his direction when you heard the urgency in his voice. He opened up his mouth to tell you what had been rattling in his brain over the past couple of days. Before the man could get a single word out, Dean talked over him, stopping him from doing that he would regret. 

“Maybe something like this should be discussed later.” Dean suggested to his brother in a hardening tone of voice. He thought the setting all of you were in was a little too inappropriate and out in the open like this to discuss such things. 

Sam tossed his brother a dirty glare, the mind that showed more than what he was saying. “She has a right to know.”

“Know what?” You asked them. You looked back and forth between the boys to find some sort of clue to the news Sam wanted to break to you. You felt your stomach beginning to clench in nervousness from how they were acting all of a sudden. Both of them wanted to tell you, but neither one of them could say the words. Even the younger Winchester found himself growing mute. “Seriously. Did something happen to me? Whatever it is, just tell me.”

Dean let out a sigh from the corner he was put into without much of a choice. You stared at him with that face of yours that was filled with concern at the damage you had done. He knew at some point he was going to have to have this discussion. He hoped by the time he got to the bunker he would have figured out a perfect way to break the news to you. But there would be no perfect way to do it. What he was going to tell you was like ripping off a bandaid. It was going to hurt in the moment. After a while the pain would subside and turn into a dull ache.

“After…After you stopped doing the trials, you collapsed.” Dean decided to take small steps to the version of the situation they had agreed on. Leading with the truth seemed like a good direction to go in. And while every part of him wanted to continue, Dean pressed his lips together to keep that from happening. He couldn’t break your heart. But even given you the fabricated truth, the kind where it was supposed to soften the blow, still hurt like it did when he was told himself. “You kept complaining that you were in a lot of pain.”

You stared at the man intently from what he was saying, from the look on your face, you vaguely remembered the situation. However what was foggy was the reason why you ended up in the hospital. And what caused the pain. “The doctor might have thought you had…” Dean suddenly found himself unable to say the word. He felt his stomach tense up, almost like he was going to be sick to his stomach. He’d been saying it for the past forty-eight hours like it was nothing. But when it came to telling the one person who deserved to know, he clammed up. You raised your brow and gave him a slightly impatient look, wondering what he was trying to say. You expected just about anything to come out his mouth. But what you heard wasn’t something you came up on your own. “He said that you had a miscarriage, Y/N.” 

"What?” You felt your lips stretch into a smile at the words that you heard come from Dean’s mouth. For a few seconds nothing made sense to you. The word felt so strange to you and yet so heavy. You slowly moved your gaze away from him and to a spot in the near darkness of the empty road ahead. That wasn’t possible. You began to frantically think about more to what you were told. 

Miscarriage meant you were pregnant. And pregnancy meant you were carrying a baby. A baby that was no longer. You thought back to what you remembered from being at the church. How you felt after you stopped doing the trials. For a moment you felt perfectly fine..and the next you had the worst abdominal pains. It felt like menstrual cramps, but ten times worse. And the blood. You remembered the spot of red blood just below the zipper of your jeans. After that…nothing but a blank memory you couldn’t reach.

“How…” You gnawed on the flesh inside of your cheek with your teeth. You looked at the boys for a second before you quickly turned away, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t look them in the eye. You felt ashamed. Guilty. Your breathing began to turn deeper, more shallow and rapid as the reality began sinking in. “How…how?”

How did you not know? How did you let this happen? They were just a few questions you asked yourself. Your voice dropped to a whisper as your eyes fell back to the concrete. Your mind wracked itself with trying to figure out how you didn’t figure out the symptoms sooner. Your body had been going through changes for the three months that it took to complete them. It was hard to tell what was normal and what wasn’t. Did you ignore the warning signs? Maybe there was none at all. You had so many questions. So much emotions you could feel bubbling to the surface. You quickly wiped away the tears from your eyes when you felt them accidentally slip out. Now was not the time to cry. 

"You didn’t know, sweetheart. None of us could have.” Dean finally spoke up after seeing you take the news. Somehow the lie slipped right off his tongue without a problem. A small part of him knew telling you this was wrong. You deserved to know the whole truth. But if you did, then more would come out. And everything he had done would slowly unravel. “The doctor said you were a little over six weeks.”

“How is that possible?” You knew better than anyone the trials took a lot out of you. Mentally and psychically. You body was going through changes, most likely that was why you missed a few important symptoms. What had you baffled was how you found the time. It had been a while since you and Dean had an intimate moment together. You awkwardly looked over at Sam from what you were discussing. The conception of your unborn baby. “We haven’t exactly…you know. And I would’ve known if I was late.”

“My guess it was after you came back from Purgatory. Remember?” Dean managed to make up an excuse that wasn’t a complete and total lie. The both of you did share a night together that was more than just cuddling. Sort of like a victory for what you managed to do. Either way, the memory didn’t bring up a warm and tingly feeling to you. You shake your head in anger. “Look whatever happened…whatever the reason, this wasn’t your fault. These things just happen.”

“I know. I know. It’s just…” You were pregnant. For six weeks your body had been preparing and growing a new life. And for whatever reason, if it was because of the trials, maybe a medical reason, they were gone. You lost a lot of people in your life. But losing a life that was part yours…it hurts worse. Because it was someone that could have been. And it was gone. “I know it was only a month. But it still hurts. I don’t know why.”

“It will for a while. But it wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You need to remember that.” Dean told you. You forced yourself to look at the man directly in the eye. You had been carrying his unborn child. Until you weren’t. You tried to find any trace of sadness in his eyes. Maybe a sense of anger for what you had done. But he seemed strangely calm. Or he was giving you the best poker face of all. “I meant what I said at the church. Nothing will ever change Sammy’s or my mind about you. You’re capable of anything, Y/N.”

The church. You vividly remembered how you gotten over the eight hours while you pumped Crowley full of your blood. You had gone delirious to the point of saying things that didn’t make sense Telling deep dark fears about yourself that you thought were long gone. You took on the burden of doing the trials to prove Dean that life didn’t have to end in death…and for another reason. You tried to think of what it was, but your mind was drawing a blank. Through the months and changes, you ended up feeling like the trials was the only way to purify yourself from the demon blood you thought was still in your body. You went on about how you hurt the people you love. You kept telling yourself this was the right thing to do. You felt your jaw tighten at the irony. 

In all honesty you couldn’t have known you were pregnant. You inhaled a deep breath and told yourself something your mother might have heard often. These things happen. It could have been worse. Women go full term and they lose their child. A routine check up to see their little fetus and there’s no heartbeat. You lost your child when they were nothing more than a bunch of cells with a heartbeat. Hell, maybe this was the universe of telling you that getting pregnant was a bad idea. You admitted to Dean last year that you weren’t opposed to the chance of having a family of your own. It was like your desire to have a barely normal life. For people like you it wasn’t possible. You could never raise a child. 

Not when the sky was raining angels and hell’s doors were still open. Your life was constantly on the line. Women who weren’t like you deserve to feel grief. You wanted kids. You wanted a lot of things. But you weren’t like most. Nobody deserved to have you as a parent. 

“Are you gonna be okay, Y/N?” Sam’s voice broke your concentration away from your thoughts. You glanced up at the man to see he was giving you a sympathy expression, the ends of his lips stretched into a small smile. Even if you could see the sadness in his eyes. The man wanted a normal life more than anything. You felt the knife in your heart twist more and more. You slowly nodded your head. “It’s gonna be alright. We’ll get through this." 

"I know, Sammy. It’s just…It’s a lot to take in.” You mumbled. You knew the loss was a shock to both of the boys. Much as you wanted to talk more about this, you didn’t have the luxury right now to deal with your emotions. You do what you always did; shove them down and pretend like they didn’t exist. “Last thing I remember was the angels falling out of the sky. What’s the deal with that?”

“We know much as you. It started right after we left the church.” Sam said. He let out a heavy sigh from the trouble all of you had to deal with. Thousands of angels wandering the earth. One of them crawling around in his best friend’s skin. And you had no clue. “Which means we’ve got that crap on our hands." 

“You know what that means.”

“We’ve got work to do.”


	2. Devil May Care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. Did not mean for this episode to take me 2+ months to write. Sorry for the serious lack of love on here, hope this episode makes up for it!

You knew better than anyone that if things seem bad, it could always be worse. Somehow it always managed to get to that point for you. The months you spent trying to close the gates of hell turned out to be more complicated than you lead yourself to believe. Heaven was in shambles and you had your own personal business you were trying to push off from thinking about for long as possible. The best way to do that was to sleep. You managed to get a few extra hours after the stop for gas, when you woke up you discovered you were almost back to Lebanon. Dean wanted to hit up a rest stop after driving all night to get some fresh air and take the opportunity to stretch your legs. Nothing like taking in the sight of nature to help ease one’s troubled mind.

While you and the boys enjoyed the mostly empty scenery, you were able to catch each other up on the events that unfolded while you were both away doing your own thing. You couldn’t be sure if Dean had learned anything from his brother over the two days you spent at the hospital. All of you had been dealing with…unexpected events. You wouldn’t have put it past Sam if he didn’t want to talk about what happened that night.

Dean told you the reason why he was called away from helping with the demon trials after Cas appeared out of nowhere needing his assistance with something big—shutting the pearly gates of heaven big. It was connected to the angels dropping out of the sky. The poor bastard was tricked into doing a series of trials like you had completed in the span of a few months, only it took him one night. He thought this was going to fix up heaven and turn it back into a place like how he wanted. Cas had gotten some help from Metatron, an angel the four of you thought was one of the good guys. Turned out he was a selfish dick like the rest of his siblings.

The supposed trials that Cas had done that night turned out to be a spell. He had gotten every ingredient that Metatron had needed, except for the most crucial one of all: an angel’s grace. Instead of wasting his time trying to find someone vulnerable enough to extract it from, Metatron went for someone who had been useful to him. Cas was drained of all his grace and thrown down to earth with the rest of his siblings. You didn’t know if the rest of the angels were weak as him. You knew for sure that an angel needed their grace, it’s what powers them up. Without it they were like the rest of humanity. Powerless. Useless.

“So, what,” You made your way back to the picnic table to take a seat next to Sam to continue the conversation with the boys about the angel who once was. “Cas is human?”

“Ish. I mean, he’s got no grace, no wings, no…harp, whatever the hell else he had.” Dean told you of the unfortunate news of how your best friend was affected from the fall and the part he played in it. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position when he saw the overwhelmed expression on your face from how everything seemed to be unraveling all at once.

“Okay.” Sam wasn’t exactly positive on how Cas could handle himself against his siblings that were trying to hunt him down and seek a little revenge after being cast down to earth. Who knew how vulnerable Cas was with all of his grace gone. If it made him human like the rest of you, he was going to have to deal with things he never experienced before. Hunger, thirst. The need to sleep. Basic instincts that were going to be all new to him. You wondered if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to find the guy before he could somehow get into even more trouble than he already was “Where did he crash land?”

“Called me from a pay phone from Longmont, Colorado.” Dean said. “I told him just to make for the bunker.”

“Well, you think he can handle a road trip like that?” You shared your concern for letting the angel travel alone with everything unfolding.

“Well, Cas is a big boy. Things go Breaking Bad, he knows our number.” Dean reassured your worried mind about the potential threat to your friend’s safety. Cas had a target painted on his back, but it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. He always managed to come out of this unscathed. “Right now we have bigger worries.”

“The fallen angels?” You wondered if that’s what he was hinting around.

“Yeah.” Dean said. “I mean, thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around down here.”

Sam couldn’t help himself when he let out a chuckle from the newest problem that fell into your lap. “What do you think they’re gonna do?”

“I got no damn clue.” Dean muttered.

“What about Crowley?” You asked about the demon you had almost forgotten all about. Your mind had been so wrapped up in trying to catch up on the things you had missed out on, you didn’t realize you had left the king of hell chained up back at the church. You wondered if he was still there. “Did you…” You gave the oldest Winchester a curious expression as you mimicked slitting your throat with your index finger, wondering if he killed the demon once and for all.

“I would’ve loved nothing better than to ice that limey bitch.” Dean admitted to you. You gave him a slightly confused look as to why he didn’t do that in the first place. He pushed himself closer to the edge of the picnic table and told you the ulterior motive he had to keep the demon still breathing. “But then I thought to myself, ‘What would Y/N Y/L/N do’?”

“Easy.” You answered the hypothetical question without hesitation. So easy and casual from the things you were discussing. “I would’ve stabbed him in the brain.”

“Oh.” Dean was a little surprised at your violent response. Normally it was him who liked to pull the trigger and dispose of the monster without question, not wanting to deal with the headache it would bring later on. You and Sam liked to think of a logical standpoint, which was what the older man did in this situation. He thought what benefit Crowley might bring if you kept him around for a little while longer. Considering how the demon helped you out a few times in the past, he might do it again with a little persuasion. “Well, I figured the king of hell might know a few things, so why not ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ his ass?”

“Wait.” You pushed yourself up from the table and back to your feet when the boys did as well, following them to the back of the parked Impala several feet away. “So Crowley is alive?”

Dean answered your question by unlocking the trunk and opening it up, revealing someone you thought was long dead by now. Even Sam was surprised to see the king of hell himself and the circumstances he landed himself in; handcuffed and quiet with a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep him from attracting any unwanted attention. “He’s the junk in my trunk.”

You placed your hands on your hips and stared down at the demon from the vulnerable state he was in. A smirk creeping at the ends of your lips when you realized he was still at your mercy. You were tempted to take a picture to mock the demon for the predicament he got himself in. However you knew he wasn’t going to live longer than you needed him. For now you enjoyed his humiliation for the sake of your own entertainment. All the crap he put you through over the years, how powerful he thought he was, and this was what came of the demon. And it was only the beginning for what you had in store for him.

\+ + +

A few more hours and you were back in Lebanon and pulled up into the place you had been calling home over the past several months, the bunker. It felt like years since you’d been back here. The sight made a comforting ease wash over you. You could unwind and catch your breath from the past few days. The first thing you were going to do after you got Crowley settled in was taking a shower to unwind your aching muscles and digest everything. Dean busied himself with checking up on the prophet he abandoned over the past few days without even a call to update the kid on the reasons why all of you were gone longer than expected. Along with the news that sat in the back of his mind.

Dean made his way inside the bunker while you and Sam took care of getting your guest out of the trunk without much fuss. You made sure to go the extra mile to make sure to keep Crowley from knowing your whereabouts. The bunker might have been warded against all evil and monsters, still didn’t mean there would be trouble waiting outside your front door if demons even caught a whiff of where you lived. Patience was a virtue anyone could have if it meant they could kill the enemy once and for all.

The older Winchester managed to take a few steps inside before he found himself being attacked in his own home. He saw something move from the corner of his eye and land directly not too far from where he was standing. It took him a few seconds to figure out there was an arrow sticking out from the handrail not too far from where he stood. Dean walked forward to the ledge and broke the wooden arrow off. His brow furrowed in confusion from who could have done it. Someone who had no sense of aim, that’s who.

“What the hell?“ Dean muttered to himself just loud enough for his voice to echo through the quiet air.

His words drifted down to the lower level of the bunker and to the library where Dean heard what sounded to be ruckus, causing his eyes to wander over to a sight that he wasn’t expecting to see. It seemed Kevin had grown paranoid while you and the boys were gone. It was him who had shot the arrow at Dean from the comfort of his hideout. One of the tables was overturned to its side and a barricade of books for some kind of added measure for his safety. Kevin stood up with a crossbow in hand. It explained the unexpected attack, but not enough for Dean to understand why the kid went to such great lengths to keep himself safe.

"Dean?” Kevin sounded surprised at the sight of the oldest Winchester standing on top of the staircase. After everything that happened over the past few days Kevin wouldn’t have put it past himself if he started hallucinating a familiar face in some kind of attempt to calm himself down. Maybe he was suffering some sort of mental breakdown from the traumatic stress he endured over the past few days. The annoyed expression on the man’s face made Kevin realize that it was very much in fact Dean Winchester. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a crappy shot…Katniss.” Dean tossed the arrow to the ground and shook his head at the kid’s itchy trigger finger.

“Sorry. It’s been a bad couple of days. I-I haven’t kept, or eat.” Kevin admitted about his well being. Dean made his way down the staircase to meet the kid in the war room, the crossbow still in Kevin’s hand as he carried out of the library. He felt a little embarrassed about what he was about to confess, but it was the truth. The things he witnessed…scared the crap out of him. Yet he hadn’t experienced much luck when he tried to relieve himself. "I’m pretty backed up.“

“Okay, overshare.” Dean muttered, not really needing to know that little detail.

“After we talked, this place went nuts, all right? There was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out. And the bunker just locked down. I couldn’t open the door. My cell phone stopped working. I thought the world was ending.” Kevin gave the man a glimpse into the catastrophe he witnessed himself on his end. He wanted to believe that he was just going insane, but the look that crossed Dean’s face was easy to read. Nothing good came of it.

“Close.” Dean told the man. “The angels fell.”

“What does that mean?” Kevin asked, not sure if he was supposed to understand.

“Nothing good.” He said, leaving it at that for now. Dean reached for the crossbow to take it out of the prophet’s hand, not sure where he even got it in the first place, and set it down on the table next to them. “Listen, next time the world’s ending, grab a gun.” Kevin stood there for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what the older man meant by fallen angels. Dean shoved his hand inside his pocket for his phone as he took a few steps away from the younger man, wondering if there still wasn’t any service. However he saw a full set of bars like he always did. Everything seemed to be running as usual. "I got service.”

Kevin went over to the control panel and flipped a switch, powering back up the machine as some lights above turned back on while noises of life came from the panel. He looked around to see that everything had returned back to the way it was before.

“It’s back online.” Kevin noticed. The Men of Letters machinery and technology was dated back decades, far inferior compared to the advancements of today. However Kevin thought he might have had a slight understanding of what happened and how it all worked. “Maybe when you opened the door from the outside door, it reset the system.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s go with that.” Dean didn’t have a single clue what the kid was talking about, so he agreed with whatever came out of his mouth. It sounded smart enough to be right.

Dean looked back up to the staircase when he heard the heavy metal door open and shut, followed along with three pairs of footsteps approaching. You headed down first with Sam following behind you, your temporary houseguest tight in the man’s grip. You slipped a black bag over Crowley’s head so he couldn’t see anything except pitch black, along with some noise cancelling headphones you found buried in the back of the Impala. You used them a few times when you were learning how to shoot a gun many years ago after you complained about the noise being too loud. Dean gifted them to you to help practice until you adapted and they ended up useless, until today. They made the perfect accessory for Crowley. This way the demon couldn’t hear or see a single thing.

“Hey.” Sam stopped halfway down the staircase and called out to his brother.. “We good?”

“Is it ever.” Dean said. “Come on.”

You joined Dean in heading to the dungeon to set things up for Crowley as Sam dragged your guest down the stairs without too much trouble. While the sight of the demon falling down the steps would have been amusing on your part, you needed him in one piece from the things you were about to ask of him. Whether he wanted to participate or not, you weren’t going to give him much of a choice.You and the boys thought having the king of hell occupying the one place in the entire bunker where he couldn’t escape would have been a fool proof plan. Crowley wasn’t going anywhere from the devil’s trap on the floor along with the handcuffs around his wrists.

However you didn’t seem to ask about how someone else might feel about living under the same roof as the king of hell. The demon who had kidnapped him several times. Who cut off his pinky finger. Who made his life a living hell on earth. Possessed his mother…killed the only family member he had left in this world. Kevin didn’t need to see the face to know who it was. The dread that filled him was enough to put the pieces together on his own.

Sam settled Crowley into a chair you were kind enough to give to the demon for the duration of the stay, however that was going to be. You figured it wasn’t going to be too long from the way he acted at the church. The devil’s trap and handcuffs might have been enough to keep the demon in one place, but you went the extra mile when you placed the chain around his neck to stop the demon from doing anything stupid. Dean ripped off the bag from Crowley’s head when he was finally settled in, blinding the demon from the floresignt light he wasn’t used to seeing. The last to come off was the duct tape still on Crowley’s lips, giving him a chance to speak for the first time in days.

Crowley winced in pain at the feeling of the tape’s residue ripping off a few of his facial hairs from his beard. After his eyes adjusted to the light, the demon was welcomed by the sight of three of his favorite humans. “Hello—” Before the demon could say his usual greeting, Dean cut him off by punching him straight in the face. The punch was unexpected as Crowley let out a slight noise of pain, almost like a groan.

“Never get tired of doing that.” Dean said. He would take every chance he could get to punch the demon in his face. He threw the bag to a corner of the dungen and stepped back, joining you and Sam for the little talk you were about to have.

Crowley took a moment to look around the place after discovering he was finally out of the trunk of the Impala and given a chance to stretch his legs. The sight was a little on the duller side for his personal taste from the concrete walls and shades of grey. But when Crowley discovered all sorts of torture devices to his right, the demon’s interest perked up in curiosity. “Homey. Where did you get this fantastic little tree house?”

“All right, here’s how it’s gonna go.” Sam spoke up, bringing the demon’s attention over to him. You crossed your arms over your chest when you noticed Crowley’s eyes wander to the pad and pencil the younger Winchester was holding. He had a feeling all of you weren’t here to hear about Crowley’s upbringing and rise to power. “You’re giving us the name of every demon on earth and the people they’re possessing.”

“Am I?” Crowley asked. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

"Sam and I saw you break down, Crowley.” You called out the demon on his past behavior that told you a much different story. The night you completed the final trial might have been a blur, but you clearly remembered the revelation you and Crowley had together. What he was willing to do in order to be forgiven from his past mistakes. “When I was trying to cure you, I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is.”

“Blah-blah. Boo-hoo. Done?” Crowley raised his brow from the touching moment you were trying to have with him. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from the way he was acting. It meant he was back to his arrogant self. Not a care in the world for anyone but himself. “Good. 'Cause this is what I know. I’m not giving you anything. You have no leverage, darlings. You’re not gonna close the gates of hell because you didn’t. You’re not gonna kill me because you haven’t. So, what’s left?”

“We have a few ideas.” You reassured the demon.

“Torture? Brillant. Can’t wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier really putting the S-A-M into S-and-M.” Crowley must’ve thought he was hilarious from the smile that settled to the edges of his lips. A joke that was too easy to make. "Honestly, Kitten, what are you gonna do to me that I don’t do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?”

Psychical torture was the first thing that crossed Crowley’s mind. It was something that, if done properly, would have made the toughest of demons talk. The three of you had your fair share done to you. Sam spent God knows how long in the cage being a personal toy for Michael and Lucifer, Dean learned everything about the craft from Alistair. Not to mention you had enough inflicted upon you to learn how to break someone. Much as you would have enjoyed slicing Crowley up, you had better things to do than try and crack him. You didn’t need to hurt someone to break them down. Hell, you didn’t have to lift a finger.

You didn’t waste the effort to respond to Crowley. Instead, you made your way to the door as the boys followed behind, showing the demon about what his punishment was going to be if he didn’t cooperate. They slid the shelves back into place as Dean told the demon to have fun. You snickered to yourself as you flicked off the lights and slammed the door shut when all of you stepped out into the hall. The demon was alone all by himself in complete darkness. He was so used to having demons waiting at his beck and call, fearing about what sort of punishment would be inflicted upon them if they didn’t do their very best for their king. Now he was in time out. Maybe a little solitude from any kind of contact was what Crowley needed.

You made your way back to the library to see the mess that you had walked into was cleaned up by Kevin. The table was put back to normal and all the books on the floor were now properly back on the shelf. You were about to ask the kid about how he was handling himself from the dishelieved appearance, obviously having a bad few days himself. Before you could get the words out, Kevin was bombarding you with some questions of his own. You didn’t seem to think about how Crowley’s stay wasn’t going to settle well with Kevin.

“What’s Crowley doing here? Why isn’t he dead?!” Kevin yelled at you and the boys when you made your way into the library. You understood that he was upset about what you had done, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with his attitude. You were up to your eyeballs in stress, among other things you really didn’t want to think about. “Why aren’t you stabbing him right now?!”

“All right, all right. Chill out, Kevin, okay?” Dean told the kid. “We need him.”

“What?” Kevin hissed at all of you, sounding nothing short of confused at the reason why you would do something so stupid as to trust a demon to tell the truth.

“Kevin, look,” Sam tried to explain best as he could for him to understand your reasoning, “if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he’s got topside, we can hunt them down—all of them.”

“He will break, okay? And when he does, we’ll hold him down while you knife him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers.” Dean reassured the prophet about your plan, along with the happy ending to all of this once Crowley gave you what you wanted. Kevin wasn’t convinced.

“Just stay away from him, all right?” You told him. “Pretend like he’s not here.”

Kevin rolled his eyes from your crappy advice that that wasn’t going to help his nerves. He knew there was no way he was going to get you to budge on moving the king of hell elsewhere, it was him who was going to have to adjust. Much as it was going to pain him. “So, now what?”

“I got to make some phone calls. You need to hit the angel tablet, see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out heaven.” Dean instructed the prophet, giving him one task that only he could handle.

“Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God squad does too much damage.” Sam said.

“If we’re lucky. All right, check the net for anything angel-y.” Dean instructed you and his brother, figuring the best way to start on tackling the disaster was by finding a lead and going from there.

“Or demon-y.” Sam added on.

“Or monster-y. Or ghost-y. Or…” Dean listed off everything else you normally looked for when you searched the internet for a possible case. Not only was heaven in disarray, you still had to deal with the aftermath of hell and a knight on the hunt for a new meatsuit after you set her old one up into flames. She was most likely planning her revenge on you, waiting for the moment to peel your flesh off the bone. Dean let out a sigh from the trouble coming your way. “It’s gonna be a busy year.”

“I need a drink.” You muttered to yourself. You rubbed your eyes from the stress that seemed like it was never gonna end. Everything was happening so fast, faster than your brain could process. “Sammy, I’ll help you in a little while. I just want to shower. Maybe make a call myself. See if we can’t get an extra set of hands looking around for us.”

“You think of calling up Josh?” Dean asked you. He tried to make his voice sound like he was curious about finding out the person you wanted to get into contact with, in some kind of attempt to hide the heistantance of bringing him involved. There was too much going on. He couldn’t handle another person interfering in his life right now, having to explain the same story that didn’t get any easier saying. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“He’s helped us before in the past with these kinds of things. We need him more than ever.” You said. You made your way over to the mini fridge Dean bought a week after you officially decided you were staying here on a long term trial. You opened it up and grabbed a beer without a second thought, not realizing how strange the sight was to the three men. You twisted off the top and took a swing, the alcoholic taste was more refreshing than you had realized it was going to be. “God, feels like it’s been months since I’ve had a drink.”

You made your way to your own bedroom with the neck of the beer between your fingertips as your other arm rested against your side, not realizing the sight was off putting for someone who still thought you were…still progressing in some things. You let your mind linger on the things that were more important at the moment: how were you going to fix heaven and send all the angels back upstairs. Figure out where the hell Cas was and if he was okay. Learn how to kill a knight of hell. And on top of it all, somehow try and find a way to make Crowley chatty. Like how he had gotten back at the church. You had a feeling if you asked him anything in that moment, he would have told you without an ounce of hesitance.

All though the past several days had been a bit blurry, you vividly remembered how Crowley had gotten as you neared the end of the injections of human blood. He displayed emotions you had never seen out of a demon before. Regret. Guilt. He wanted to confess his greatest sins if it made him be freed from the burden of his past mistakes. The secret desire to be loved. You felt a sense of empathy for him in that moment. Both of you wanted the same thing. To be freed from your past, to be loved for who you were. All you wanted was to do the right thing. And even then…you screwed it all up. Like you always did. You hurt the ones you loved the most.

You didn’t realize you had started to cry when you felt something wet roll down your cheeks, making you reach a hand up and quickly wipe away the tears escaped without a chance for you to stop them. For the first time you were alone and left to come to terms with the reality of your grim situation. You were pregnant. Past tense. No longer. Every single time you thought about it made your heart feel like someone was stabbing it with a knife. You wanted to sink down to the floor and let yourself feel every emotion that had been brewing in the back of your mind since Dean told you the news. Much as you tried to bury it down and pretend like it didn’t exist, there was no denying it anymore.

There was no way to change past and undo all of this from happening. You didn’t know if that helped or hurt the situation, knowing there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You guessed it left you with two options to handle the situation.Sit and wallow in self pity, wonder where you went wrong. Ponder on the thought of death for the sacrifice of closing the gates of hell for good. Or you could do what you always did. Suck it up and shove your feelings down. Focus on what mattered most.

You inhaled a deep breath and remind yourself that, while it was sad for what you went through, you were only six weeks along. Women have it much worse when it comes to this kind of stuff. They to endure the trauma of expecting a child and losing them. The excitement they had, the sensation of knowing they were carrying a new life, was gone just like that. For the first time in your life, you got lucky when it came to dealing with the trauma. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself to get through this.

\+ + +

You never had such a strong desire to push your laptop off the library’s table and away from you more than you did at this very moment. You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your aching eyes from staring at the screen for the past forty-five minutes. After combing through endless articles over every state in the country, you had officially hit a dead end on trying to find a lead. You weren’t sure what you were even supposed to be looking for anymore. You put in seven hours last night with Sam trying to do some research while Kevin tried translating the angel tablet some more in hopes he could find a way to undo the mess Metatron had made. The three of you accomplished absolutely nothing, forcing you to go to bed grumpy and even more stressed than how you started out.

You looked at the bottom right corner of the screen to read the time: 5:27 A.M. You reached for your empty coffee cup and contemplated if your heart could handle another serving. You’d been up for almost an hour after tossing and turning for half the night until you gave up on trying to sleep. Your restless mind wouldn’t stop thinking about everything that was happening. How was Kevin handling the fact that Crowley was staying in the bunker? Was Cas even anywhere near Kansas? What if he was hurt? What if you couldn’t fix the damage that was done upon heaven? How the hell did you not know you were…you stopped yourself when you reached for questions you didn’t want to think about.

You gave up on trying to bury the anxiety down and tried to distract yourself instead by doing some more research. Maybe while you were wasting your time trying to sleep something had popped up. However your attempt at trying to be helpful ended with you wasting another hour of your life you couldn’t get back. You brewed yourself a pot of coffee since you weren’t going back to bed and had your routinely two cups of coffee, thinking it would make you sharper to finding a needle in a haystack. Only it made you feel like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. You didn’t understand what was going on with your body.

Normally it took you that amount to get your eyes to stay open in the morning, now it felt like you couldn’t sit still, it was like your body was more sensitive to the substance. Maybe it was your restless mind that was having some sort of negative effect on your body. Whatever the reason was, you couldn’t sit here anymore and stare at your laptop screen. You needed to get out of here and distance yourself for a little while. You decided to do something you hadn’t done in years; you were going to go for a run.

Running was something you used to do almost on a routine basis when you were younger. It started off as a way to keep yourself healthy and keep yourself in shape. Back when the only thing you were good at when it came to hunting was researching the history of a creature and how to kill it. Slowly it turned into a ritual for you that you looked forward to every morning. You laced up your sneakers and hit the local park that was a ten minute walk from your house with your favorite cassette tape or CD. Sometimes you let the sounds of nature be your music. You decided that’s what you needed right now.

You changed into some sweatpants you had buried somewhere in your room and grabbed your sneakers that were collecting dust in a box of your old belongings from your house. You didn’t realize how much you missed running until you stepped outside to see it was still dark and the sounds of crickets chirping in the distant woods. You inhaled a deep breath of the fresh air and began on your journey, hoping your muscles weren’t too rusty for the handful of miles you were about to accomplish. Maybe you could even see the run rise while you were out.

Over an hour later and several miles down, you arrived back at the bunker with the intention of distancing yourself away from technology for a little while longer for a chance to clear your head and look at this whole situation from another point. It seemed to do you some good when you found an article that caught your interest. You skimmed through it for a second time to make sure this was something worth looking into as you wandered over to the table after brewing yourself another cup of coffee. You told yourself that you worked off the caffeine to treat yourself to a third one after you brewed yourself another pot before you hopped into the shower after dripping with sweat from the workout.

You felt more refreshed after the run along with changing into normal clothes after your shower, yet your hair was still damp and face bare of any makeup you were still contemplating applying. One of the perks you learned quickly while living in the bunker was the endless hot water you had, along with the pressure that eased your aching muscles. You accidentally lost track of how long you had been standing in the shower, it was almost as if you had zoned out.

You glanced up when you heard the sound of slippers dragging around the bunker’s floor and heading towards the kitchen, the noise made you break your concentration away from the article you had been reading more intensely now. A smile crept to the edges of your lips at the sight of a still sleepy looking Dean. The man was dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt he fell asleep in after calling it quits for himself a little after midnight.

“Morning.” You greeted the man in a little too chipper of a voice for the both of you, taking you by surprise.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Dean managed to grumble back.

You made your way over to the man to give him a quick peck on the lips like you normally did every morning before going back to your coffee to take a sip. You directed your attention back to the article that seemed like something worth investigating. At least it was the closest thing you had at the moment that caught your interest. Dean made his way over to pour a cup for himself. He noticed the pot was still scolding hot, which meant it was fresh. He looked around the kitchen to find evidence of another partner to join you. Sam wasn’t around. And Kevin was most likely still sleeping from the stressful three days he had to endure on his own. It was just you.

“Hey, what time did you get up this morning?” Dean asked out of curiosity. You glanced up from the phone and to him, wondering why he wanted to know. “You came to bed at two. But when I went to the bathroom at six, you were gone.”

"Oh. I decided to do a little research. Then I went out for a run afterwards.” You told the man, taking a seat at the table to try and continue reading. “I just got back an hour ago."

Dean looked up at the clock to see that it was a little past eight. It was common for you to be an early riser than him, except for the rare moments when the both of you spent the mornings cuddled in bed together. All though there were problems coming at you from both sides, Dean hoped you might have decided to sleep in. He would do anything to be wrapped up in each other’s arms. He didn’t know the last time where he could forget about the world and its problems. It was just you and him. Nothing else to worry about. Even if it was for a few minutes, it was what he needed right now. To have you near him, safe and sound. Knowing that you were okay. At least, to be reminded that he still cared for you. He still loved you.

"That was two hours ago.” Dean said. You shrugged your shoulders and gave the man a slightly confused look as to why he was putting so much care into this. The three of you had strange sleeping patterns, it came with the job. You were lucky if you even got four hours of sleep. Suddenly Dean was acting as if this was out of the ordinary for you. “What time did you actually get up?”

“I don’t know. I really couldn’t sleep. I think I got up a little after four. Did a little digging for an hour and then I went out for a run.” You gave the man a highlight of what you had been up to over the past few hours. You rubbed a hand over your aching muscles, trying to get used to the pain you hadn’t felt in a while. “I shouldn’t have done that extra mile. I’ll be feeling it later, that’s for sure."

"Are you sure you should be going this hard? I mean, you just…” Dean found himself trailing off, his silence mentioning the elephant in the room none of you had spoken about since a few nights ago. You watched as he gave you a serious expression, along with a worrisome glint in his eye. “I don’t want you pushing yourself. Not when you’re still in such a fragile state. We don’t know how much damage was done on your body after the trials. Take it easy."

You put your phone down to the table and gave the man an annoyed glare. “Why are you talking to me like that?”

”…Like what?“ Dean asked you. He found himself responding to your question a few seconds later after you forced him to break his concentration away from his personal thoughts.

"Like…I don’t know.” You weren’t sure how to explain it to him without sounding crazy yourself. He walked on eggshells around you. You understood on some level that he didn’t want you pushing yourself too hard, despite telling him over and over again that you felt fine. But it was how he spoke to you. Almost as if you were…dumb. Putting emphasis on certain words for you to comprehend them more easier. He was acting as if you didn’t know the limits of your own body. “I’m fine.” You tried to tell him, but even you knew that was bull. “I mean, fine as someone in my condition can be."

"All I’m asking is for you to take it easy. Don’t be signing up for any marathons soon.” Dean said. You rolled your eyes and moved your attention back to your phone, already growing tired of his overly protective behavior. “Did you find anything interesting? Angel-y?”

“Try demon-y. I found something weird enough for us.” You said. You handed over your phone for Dean to take a look after he poured himself a cup of coffee and joined you at the table. From the look on his face after he scrolled through the article it seemed he was interested himself. “If we leave in the next hour we can be there this afternoon."

Dean let out a quiet sigh from your eagerness to jump on this case, however he agreed when he nodded his head and handed your phone back to you. You smiled at him and got up from your seat, mentioning about letting Sam know and getting everything ready to head out sooner than later. The older man simply took another sip of his coffee and rubbed his aching head.

\+ + +

The moment you stepped out of the Impala and made the mistake of taking in a breath you were bombarded with the overwhelming stench of rotten eggs. You had to cover your nose with your hand and take in shallow breaths to keep yourself from inhaling too much of the smell that you despise more than anything in the entire world. Despite the report that caught your attention hours ago, evidence that pointed to demon activity was still fresh like the smell lingering in the air. You slammed the backseat door and inspected the crime scene in some kind of attempt to piece together what happened here. A military base was hit with a strange crime after several soldiers who were seen boarding up on a local bus ended with them going missing without a trace and other passengers dead without a clear cause.

You took notice of a few local police officers that surrounded the scene and taped off the perimeter to ward off any curious civilians. You adjusted your blazer and tried to smooth out any wrinkles on your black slacks after sitting in the car for so long. The professional outfit gave you an illusion that you were someone with authority. It paired well with the fake federal badge burning a hole in your pocket, waiting to be flashed at any officer who tried to stop you.

"Oh, God.” Sam muttered to himself. It seemed he took notice of the smell when he stepped out of the Impala a few seconds after you did. “This place reeks of sulfur.”

“Between the stink, with the freak thunderstorms, and every cow dead within three miles,” You listed off the rest of the red flags you had caught after doing more research before you left. You

ducked underneath the police tape Sam held up for you and his brother. “I’ll take demons for a thousand, Alex.”

You reached a hand inside your jacket pocket and pulled out your fake badge when you saw a soldier dressed in her uniform come forward to you. “Hey. Agent Stark. These are my partners Agent Banner and Agent Rogers. FBI.” Dean introduced himself first to the woman before nodding a head to his brother and then yourself. “Just need to have a look around.”

“Why?” The woman questioned all of you. “This is a military case, not a federal one.”

“Well, that’s not what our supervisor said.” Sam said.

“That so?” You felt a sigh threatening to escape your mouth when you realized this wasn’t going to be easy like you hoped it would be. She wasn’t going to crack so easily when you were on her territory, trying to poke your nose into her case. You forced your hands to rest at your side when she crossed her arms over her chest. “Then maybe him and I ought to have a chat.”

Dean wasn’t going to let this spook him from doing his job. It wasn’t your first time dealing with someone who didn’t fall so easily for the fake badge and the promised word that you were some sort of federal agent. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number for someone who would be the perfect boss to a couple of fake FBI workers. You wondered who the hell that was going to be. It used to be Bobby who saved your asses from getting into trouble. Sometimes it was one of you when you stayed back to do some research for the hunt. You kept a straight face when you realized who Dean was calling.

“Hey, boss. Uh, we got a little problem here.” Dean spoke to none other than Kevin Tran, who was back at the bunker working on translating the tablet. That’s how you left him after you told him you were following the lead to a potential case. He sounded a little surprised from how the older Winchester greeted him, slightly thrown off by being called boss. Dean rolled with it without missing a beat. "Yeah, just a local badge needs confirmation that we’re supposed to be here…how the word came down from FBI headquarters in D.C.”

After doing this for long as you have, you learned how to talk out of your own ass and make it sound official. Dean handed the phone over to the soldier and gave her a tight smile. You really hoped Kevin didn’t drop the ball on this one. You didn’t want to spend the night in jail.

“This is Sergeant Miranda Bates.” She introduced herself with her title. “Who am I talking to?”

“Uh, Kevin…” You slightly leaned in closer to the woman to eavesdrop on the conversation she was having with the kid. You bit the inside of your cheek when you heard the kid give a last name that couldn’t have been anymore fake sounding. “Solo.”

“How old are you?” Miranda asked him, finding his voice awfully young sounding.

“Old enough.” He responded. “And I’m with the FBI, so you have to do what I say or—”

“Listen, kid. I don’t have to do anything, and I don’t take orders from the feeb, so unless you can give me one good reason you got a couple of pretty-boy agents poking around my crime scene, I’m gonna put them in cuffs and spank your ass raw.” Sergeant Bates layed down the law in a threatening tone of voice as she told the kid how it was going to be. You raised your brow slightly from the questionable tone she was speaking to him in. “Understand?”

“Cabo last June.” Kevin might not have a way with words like you and the boys, but he was smart enough to know how to make someone do what you want. He grabbed his laptop and quickly made his way into finding something that would make the woman back off. You watched as she slowly grew quiet at the mention of her past trip. “That’s my reason.” Kevin began to scroll through the pictures of the woman’s private life that would surely get her kicked out of the military. “Oh, my favorite’s you in a sombrero doing a body shot off some naked guy in a luchador mask. Super-classy.”

“How did you find them?” She asked him, trying her hardest to keep her voice calm.

“‘Cause I’m Kevin frigging Solo.” Kevin whispered into the phone, mocking her threatening tone she used on him just seconds ago. You felt a smile creeping at the ends of your lips when Bates began to change her behavior. “So, unless you want this forwarded to your commanding officer, Major Velasquez, I suggest you give my guys anything they want. You understand?”

Sergent Bates swallowed at the compromise she was put in, “Yes.”

“‘Yes…sir.’” Kevin corrected the woman.

“Yes, sir.” Sergent Bates repeated after him.

Bates handed the phone back to Dean after finishing up her call with the young man, the look on her face was enough to know that she wouldn’t be giving you a problem anymore. You gave her a smile at your cooperation and watched as she walked away with her tail between her legs. Dean put the phone back to his ear, curious as to what the kid managed to pull on his own.

“Kevin, what the hell did you just do?” Dean asked.

“All military computers are linked to the same network.” Kevin explained. You and Sam gave the man a curious expression to see if you had permission to the crime scene after all. Dean nodded his head and let the both of you be on your way while he finished up the conversation with the kid about how he managed to get access. “I hacked it.”

"Hey, Kevin.” Dean got the kid’s attention before he hung up the phone and got back to his work. He knew the poor prophet was dealing with a lot at the moment, from the pressure he was under and the guest he was stuck with back at the bunker. Dean could hear the stress in Kevin’s voice. He might not say it a lot, but sometimes everyone needed to hear some praise for a job well done. “Good job, buddy.”

Dean ended the call and joined the both of you back on the bus where you were observing a dead body leaning back in his seat. You pointed to something on the man’s naked chest after the coroner must have been the one who undid the buttons of his blue shirt and tie to figure out a cause of death. To the untrained eye there most likely wouldn’t be anything unusual. You and Sam quietly spoke to one another about a strange mark on his chest that you were familiar with.

“Hey.” Dean said. You looked over in the older Winchester’s direction when you heard his voice as he made his way forward to you. “Anything.”

“Yeah, this guy was shot in the heart.” Sam told his brother what the both of you discovered.

“That what killed him?” The older man asked.

“Maybe—fifteen, twenty years ago. Every one of these bodies has a fatal wound or two or three, but they’re all old.” You said. “It’s physically impossible for anyone to have survived these kinds of attacks on their own.”

“So, we’re looking at meatsuits?” Dean wondered. You nodded your head at the possibility. “The bodies took a licking, and the demon inside kept them ticking.”

“Probably.” Sam said. “I think they were possessed, and now those soldiers are.”

“Excuse me, agents.” You looked over your shoulder when you heard Sergent Bates’ voice coming from behind you. She approached you with an outstretched arm holding a tablet. “We pulled this off a security camera. You might want to take a look.”

You mumbled a thank you to the woman and grabbed the tablet from her to examine the footage. You and the boys watched as a line of soldiers made their way off the bus, looking very much alive like you suspected. You hit the pause button when you noticed the last person walking off the bus wasn’t wearing a military uniform like the rest. You furrowed your brow slightly and zoomed in on the face. The problem with demons was that deep down they were nothing more than a puff of black smoke who could take over any human body they wanted. You felt your grip around the tablet tighten at the sight of a familiar meatsuit—one you thought you had burned to a crisp.

“Abaddon? Seriously?” Dean questioned the both of you about how the body of Joise Sand was walking around without a scratch on her body. “Thought you Kentucky fired that meatsuit, Y/N.”

“I did, Dean.” You reassured the man of that fact.

“Well, then, how did she get it back?” Dean asked you, as if you knew the answer off the top of your head. You could only shrug your shoulders and thank the officer who held up the police tape while you made your way back to the Impala after finishing up here. “And why’s she playing G.I. Joe?”

“No clue.” You muttered. “Why don’t you ask her yourself when we find the bitch?”

“Oh, I will.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Then I’m gonna chop her freakin’ head off—again.”

\+ + +

You laid in the backseat of the Impala with your back pressed against one of the doors and your heels long abandoned on the floor, lost in the darkness of the night as you focused on catching some sleep after the lack there of the night before. You felt more at ease with the familiar vibrations of the engine and the bumps of the road. There wasn’t much more you could do for the case except try and get some rest while Dean drove back home. While you tried to fall asleep, you wondered how Abaddon was able to bring her charred meatsuit back to life. You remembered bits and pieces of the past several days, even less of the night at the church. But you knew for sure about the memory of dosing the knight of hell with holy oil and setting her suit on fire.

You were almost drifting off to a sleepless slumber, your head slowly bobbing up and down as you felt your eyelids drift shut. Right as you were about to close them, you suddenly felt yourself jerk wide awake at the sound of your phone ringing. You let out a sharp gasp from the unexpected noise that scared you. You quickly realized your surroundings and reached for your phone, wondering who the hell was trying to call you. When you saw Kevin’s name appear on the screen, you thought the kid had found something useful on the angel tablet. But it turned out your problems had reached his end.

“Kevin, wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” You tried your hardest to get the kid to stop talking in a rushed voice so you could understand him better with what he was trying to say. You rubbed your eyes and tried to get yourself to focus on the things he was saying, hoping the boys might be able to make sense with the phone on speaker. “Slow down, for God’s sake.”

“She gave me these coordinates.” Kevin rushed out a series of numbers that you couldn’t figure out on your own. You quickly waved a hand for Sam to track them while you listened to the rest of the information he had for you. "And two names, Irv Franklin and Tracey Bell."

“Irv’s a friend.” Dean said. “Don’t know Tracey.”

"All right, the lady said they were hunters and if you didn’t go save them, that she would kill them.” Kevin relayed the message back to you. You couldn’t help yourself when you rolled your eyes at the cliched threat you heard plenty of times before.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that song before.” You muttered to yourself. “You think these demons would get some better material by now.”

“Y/N, who was she?” Kevin asked you.

“She’s the bad guy. All right, new job. Dig up everything Men of Letters have on Knights of Hell.” You said. You felt a little bad giving the kid for work to do with the other responsibilities he had piled on his shoulders. Kevin sounded a little overwhelmed, but he agreed. “You find a way to kill one—I mean permanently—drop a dime. Thanks again, Kevin.”

You ended the call a second later and shoved it back into the pocket of your blazer. You pushed yourself up to the front seats and looked over at Sam, wondering he was able to figure out the coordinates Kevin gave. “The numbers point to a spot on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon.”

“You boys know this is a trap, right?” You asked them. You were a bit surprised to see Abaddon sticking her head out like this, especially after what you did to her. They nodded their head a little too casually for the situation you were about to take on. “And we’re just gonna walk right into it?”

“Guns blazing.” Dean said. You softly bit your bottom lip at his plan of action that you expected out of him. For someone who wanted you to take it easy, you found it surprising he wanted you part of this with his brother. He took his gaze off the road for a moment to look at you. “You with me, sweetheart?”

“You know it.” You said.

You reassured the man of your full cooperation as you leaned further and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and patted Sam on the shoulder before you retreated into the backseat again. You might have not been able to shut the gates of hell once and for all, but killing the demon who played a part in ruining your life was second best. There was nothing you wanted more right now than to see the redheaded bitch dead once and for all.

\+ + +

“The hell happened here?”

The location Abaddon led all of you to was a complete ghost town; rundown buildings overtaken by weeds, the ground beneath your fear was nothing more than dirt. It must’ve been decades since it had seen any form of life. You weren’t that surprised to see the demon lured you into a deserted part of the state like this. Better for her to have you all to herself, letting you run around while she waited for you to fall into the trap she set.

You wondered what came of the town and the people who once lived here that caused it to turn into an abandoned wasteland. Rarely do you see towns and buildings nowadays to be empty like this without a good explanation behind it. She picked this place for a reason, and not just because it was the perfect spot for whatever she had planned in that head of hers.

“A local chemical plant sprung a leak years ago. They evacuated three square blocks.” Sam explained to the both of you the town’s history. You let out a slight noise from hearing that piece of information you weren’t expecting. “Guess it’s still contaminated.”

“Wait, so this whole place is still poisonous?” You found yourself asking out of caution for your own safety. Sam nodded his head to answer your question. You rolled your eyes, you should’ve figured that much. No reason why Abaddon chose this place. If she didn’t kill you, the leftover pollution lingering the air eventually would if you were exposed to it long enough. “It’s like our very own Chernobyl."

Dean didn’t find your words comforting. He found himself thinking of a certain place on his body where he didn’t want to be tainted from any chemicals that might still be polluting the air. You turned your head at the exact moment to see him lower his hand to shield his private area. You let out a scoff and titled your head slightly in disbelief at how he was acting.

“That’s not gonna help.” Sam warned his brother.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Dean muttered.

You rolled your eyes and lightly whacked his arm away to get the man focused on searching this entire town to find the two other hunters. Your hopefulness that they were still breathing made you disregard the possible contamination you were about to walk right into. You put your life on the line almost everyday with all sorts of threats, a little pollution never hurt anyone until the long way down the line. You kept yourself vigilant for any possible surprise attacks Abaddon and her goons had planned as you traveled deeper into the town.

You and the boys managed to cover some distance as you kept walking through empty looking buildings with windows still intact and doors most likely unlocked from the rush people must’ve been in to get out of here. You checked a few buildings and scoped them out to see if anyone was inside, but all the souls that seemed to be around at the moment were just the three of you. You continued to follow behind the boys as you looked around the place, cautiously eyeing the edges of buildings and looking behind your shoulder for any possible demon trying to make a sneak attack. It seemed that you were still alone. However you found yourself stopping in your tracks when you heard a noise, it sounded like shuffling in a building not too far from where the three of you stood.

You followed behind the boys as Sam drew out his gun for any possible attackers when he approached the diner to inspect inside. The younger man kicked down the door with one swift kick and stepped inside, he took one look around the place to see there was no active threat around. The only people that were inside were the two hunters Abaddon had kidnapped. Sam lowered his weapon and called for you and Dean’s attention from what he found. You made your way into the place to see the sight for yourself. While you were happy to see the Irv and Tracy were unharmed, you couldn’t take anything for face value, You quietly shut the door behind you before taking one glance around the outside to make sure the coast was still clear from anyone besides the five of you.

"Irv? Hey.” Dean pulled off the gag from the older hunter’s mouth to give the man a chance to talk freely from the question he asked a few seconds later. “Where’s Abaddon?”

“Abaddon’s been torturing hunters.” Irv said. “She’s been trying to get intel on you kids."

"Do you know why?” Sam asked.

“I seriously doubt she wants to add you to her Christmas card. Now,” Irv veered the conversation to something more important other than trying to figure out the demon’s motives for why she was doing all of this. “Do you wanna make it with the rescue or what?”

“Right after you take a shot of holy water, huh?”

You wanted to believe that Abaddon just kidnapped the two and left it at that, but you knew from personal experience that things like her never made things easy. You pulled out the flask of holy water from your back pocket and twisted off the cap, you tugged off the cloth from Tracy’s mouth and poured the liquid into her mouth. You watched as she swallowed without a problem and gave you an annoyed glare from the dramatics. She looked young, probably no more than someone in her early twenties at most. She must’ve been new to the game.

“Happy?” She asked you.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized for the cautious steps you had to take around them. Tracy’s glare seemed to harden when she heard the sarcastic tone lined in your voice. “Gotta be safe than sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Irv said. At least the older hunter understood you couldn’t let them free without running a quick test to make sure they were still human without running around in their skin, waiting to jump up and rip your guts out. “Last thing you need is us popping black eyes."

Dean took it upon himself to free the hunters from the chairs they were tied to after he took out a pocket knife and cut them free. You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as they stretched their aching muscles from sitting in the same position for so long. Sam decided it would have been the perfect time to introduce himself to the younger woman.

"You’re Tracy, right? I’m Sam Winchester.” He said. When you noticed Tracy’s gaze had wandered over to you after Sam shifted his finger over to you, you forced yourself to give the woman a half smile and a wave before tucking your arm back where it was before. “And that’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Good for you.” Tracy responded with a lackluster tone, as if that name was supposed to mean anything to her. Your expression shifted slightly from the attitude she was giving the both of you, suddenly looking as if you were boring her with your mere presence.

“She’s new. We did a shifter job back in Sacramento together.“ Irv explained how he knew the younger woman. “Smart, but got a mouth on her.”

“Sam and I know a little something about that.” Dean’s said. You rolled your eyes when you noticed his eyes wandered over to you to drive his point home. “Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s gear up.”

You got to work with unloading all the supplies you had brought with you to take down Abaddon and her demons. Ruby’s special knife was your favorite weapon to use against a demon. While it might not be able to kill a knight of hell, something you learned from the first encounter you had with Abaddon, it worked well on others you had come in contact with without a problem. Angel blades were also useful and trusty to have on hand. You had enough ammunition to take down dozens of demons with the special carvings you had made. Might not be able to kill them, but they locked those suckers in place so you could take them down once and for all.

You threw back a canister of spray paint when Dean took out another gun and set it down on the countertop with the rest of the weapons you had lined up. It appeared to you that you had just about everything you needed to take down the knight of hell once and for all.

“All right, we got Jesus juice, guns loaded with devil’s trap bullets. Shoot a demon, put him on lockdown.” Dean listed off a few of the weapons Tracy and Irv were free to pick from to arm themselves for the fight ahead. He picked up a silver blade to swiftly flip the weapon in his hand with ease. “The angel blade works.”

You found your concentration breaking away from the conversation when you heard something in the near distance catch your attention. You turned around in your spot and looked over to the window as Sam jumped up from the table he was sitting on top of and peered outside to see if he could see who caused the noise. The younger Winchester’s expression fell when he caught sight of two demons possessing those soldiers making their way to where you were.

“They’re coming.” Sam announced.

“Good.” Dean said, seeming ready for the fight ahead.

You made your way over to the window and pushed down a few of the blinds to get a better look for yourself. You spotted the same demons Sam had pointed out just a few seconds prior, but he failed to mention they hadn’t come here empty handed. It seemed Abaddon had chosen those soldiers for a reason. You looked over your shoulder to break the news that made things slightly more complicated for all of you. “They’ve got assault rifles, Dean.”

“Okay, less good.” The older Winchester noted.

You were pretty sure the whole “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight applied to this situation a little too perfectly. You stepped away from the window and made your way back over to the counter in some kind of attempt to figure out how to get out of here. Luckily the demons didn’t know just yet where you were, they probably knew you were here from the parked Impala on the outskirts of the town. Irv wondered how you and the boys were going to get yourselves out of this one. You’ve been in a situation like this enough times to know that you couldn’t risk the chance of sneaking out the back without arousing suspicion. You needed something to distract the demons to give you enough time to bolt. And what a better way to give the illusion that you were stupid enough to go up against them.

All of you packed up your things after arming up with weapons to protect yourselves in the case those demons weren’t alone. You anxiously waited behind with the others while Dean was still back at the diner, setting up your phone after you got the brilliant idea to lure the demons into a trap with a recording of the older Winchester’s voice on loop calling out the monsters, luring them to an empty diner, all of you long gone. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Dean making his way back to the four of you after setting up the phone like you told him to do.

“All right. We got to flank seal team douche in there, so, Irv, you and me will go left.” Dean said, coming up with a plan for a way to get out of here alive. “The rest of you go right.“

You nodded your head at the instructions without much thought and looked over at Sam, both of you ready to start moving. You took a few steps over to Tracy and without much thought placed a hand on her shoulder to get her moving, however it seemed that was the worst thing you could have done. Suddenly you felt yourself stumbling backwards after Tracy turned around and shoved you off of her, hissing at you to get away from her. You were stunned at what just happened, Sam was even taken back himself when she threw daggers at the man when he tried to go even near her. Tracy had given you attitude before, you thought it was because she was pissed off at the fact she was roped into your problems. But she was staring at you like you were the kind of monster that had gotten her into this situation.

“Okay, that’s it.” You couldn’t take it anymore. You found yourself snapping back at the younger woman with an abundance of frustration from how she had been treating you since you met her. There was no reason for the attitude. Tracy responded by continuing to stare at you with the same disgusted glare. “Look, kid, I am not in the mood.”

“Whoa.” The older Winchester was quick to notice the sudden shift in mood from the reaction Tracy got out of you. He observed the three of you slowly to try and figure out what happened to have caused this. “What’s the problem?”

“My family’s dead because of them.” Tracy’s reason took you and Sam both by surprise. Your hardening glare slowly began to change at her confession, the younger Winchester was left wondering for the few seconds of silence that fell between the woman’s confession to figure out how that could have possibly been his fault. Both of you had done some pretty terrible things in the past. There was no denying that. But to have murdered someone in cold blood? You swore you never went that far. And you didn’t. Just the mistake you had made of freeing Lucifer came with more consequences than you realized. “I watched a demon slaughter my parents, and the whole time, it talked about how it was celebrating. How a couple of dumb kids let Lucifer out of his cage.”

You pressed your lips together and moved your gaze somewhere other than Tracy. Sam couldn’t help himself when he stared at the younger woman with a guilty expression at the actions he knew were all of his fault. He was the reason why Lucifer was freed from the cage. He was the reason why her parents were slaughtered. He wanted to apologize for the pain he caused her, but right now wasn’t the time to do so. Dean was quick to switch things up, deciding to have Tracy go with him and let Irv tag along instead. You swallowed down your own heavy conscience in favor of getting Tracy and Irv out of here. Sam remained where he was for a few seconds while his brother and Tracy went off. You placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and gave a slight squeeze, nodding your head for him to get moving.

The three of you went on your journey of heading into the right side of town like Dean told you to do so. Most of the journey was in complete silence, you following behind Sam as Irv chose to linger behind the line that formed. Sam had the demon knife in his head at the ready while your loaded gun remained tucked in the waistband of your jeans. You didn’t know why, but you found the confession Tracy made lingering in the back of your mind. From the way she looked at you. How she told you both that you were the reason why her parents were dead. You carried the burden around what happened back at that church on your shoulders every single day. If you could change the past, you would in a heartbeat. You even tried to fix your mistakes…but all that came of it was more mistakes on your part.

"Kids, you copacetic?” Irv’s question broke the silence between all of you. Sam nodded his head as you did the same a few moments later. You stopped behind a building and looked over at the older hunter, wondering to yourself why he wanted to know such a thing. “Good. Now hand me that toothpick and you two get Dean and Tracy—you beat feet out of here.”

“What?” Sam sounded nothing more than confused as to what the man was suggesting. It sounded like a suicide mission, because it was. There was no way in hell you were letting Irv in there by himself with all those demons with one knife and no backup to help.

“I’m going in there alone.” Irv said. “I’ll buy you two as much time as I can.”

“Irv, that’s death.” Sam told the hunter.

“Yeah, well, it’s what I got coming. It’s my fault, Sam.” Irv’s confession wasn’t what you were expecting to come out of the man’s mouth. You looked at him a little funny from what he was implying, wondering how that could be such a thing. There was more to the story that the hunter withheld from you until now. “I was in some dive and I was sloppy and lonely and I met some girl, and the next thing you know, I’m strapped to some bed and she’s twisting things that ain’t supposed to be twisted.”

“‘She’ who?” You questioned the man.

“Abaddon.” The name that fell out of the hunter’s mouth made you sink your shoulders down in disappointment. Sam took the news the same as you. Irv was distraught with the things he had done against his own will, but there was only so much a man could take before breaking. “I gave ‘em up. Pete, Tracy—I gave ‘em all up. So you hand me that blade and let me do what I got to do, or so help me—”

Before the man could finish the argument to get what was coming to him and die with some dignity after the wrongs he had made, it seemed death came to him sooner than he was anticipating. You felt a sudden gasp of surprise escape from your mouth at what happened in the matter of seconds. You didn’t realize Irv had been shot until you saw him lying on the ground with a bleeding wound in his chest. Sam quickly grabbed a hold of your arm and yanked you closer to him when he figured out what was going on. You felt your back collide with the brick wall as another shot went off. The demon who was trying to take you down must’ve been a sharp shooter. You and Sam quickly drew out your own guns, knowing a simple knife shared between the both of you wasn’t gonna cut it.

Sam slowly inched himself closer to the edge of the wall and peered out with his weapon to see where the demon was. He managed to spot him sitting on a rooftop straight ahead, he took his chance by firing off a few rounds until he managed to hit a bullseye into the scope. When Sam tried to aim for the demon next, that’s when you made a run for it, Sam following behind right after you. You ran for cover in the nearest building that you found and pushed the door open with your body, not even bothering to think there might be someone inside waiting for you. You didn’t come into that thought until you saw someone pressing their shoe against your wrist that was holding your gun. You looked up to see the barrel of a gun staring back down at you and the smile of a demon to greet you.

“Boo.” The demon taunted you.

\+ + +

Dean couldn’t help himself when he thought back to what Tracy had said about her parents. The situation of freeing Lucifer came with a ripple effect that felt like it was never going to end. When all of you thought the dust had settled and things could go back to somewhat normal, there was always a small wave to come creeping back up. Tracy had every right to be pissed off at what happened to her parents. Hunters got into this lifestyle without much of a choice, almost always it was because of some sort of tragedy that dragged them into this lifestyle. You and the boys knew the story. It was your lives that lead you to this point. The reason you made the choices you did.

You and Sam made mistakes with terrible consequences. There was no denying that factor. But so did Dean. Irv most likely would confess that he had nightmares from his past choices that kept him up at night. Everyone does. He was sure Tracy would make some along the way. In the moment, before everything falls apart, you feel like it was the right thing to do. You don’t realize how wrong you are until you’re faced with the mistakes of your actions that you can’t go back from.

“Okay, I think they’re still inside. We wait till they come out, and we pick them off one by one.” Dean gave the layout of his plan while him and Tracy slowly made their way closer to the edge of a gafettied up wall. She listened without much as a peep. He adjusted his grip around the knife and looked over at her for a second. "Listen, for the record, Sam and Y/N weren’t the only ones who thought they were doing right and watched it all go to crap. Okay? That’s just part of being—”

“Being a hunter.” Tracy cut off the man, finishing his sentence with the moral lesson she thought he was trying to make.

“Being human.” Dean corrected the woman. “Look, you want to be pissed off at them, that’s fine. I get it. But if you want to go after somebody, you make sure they got black eyes. Got to know who the real monsters are in this world, kid.”

Dean nodded his head for Tracy to start moving when he thought it was the perfect time to start heading to the spot he located. He cautiously made his way forward with his gun pointed forward and figured just centimeters from the trigger, ready to take down any demon that tried to get the jump on him. However the hunter was stupid enough to overlook the small alleyway that was just big enough to have someone hiding in there. Dean found himself being taken by surprise when he felt someone take a swing at him, sending him straight to the ground. Tracy was fast enough to act without a second thought. She fired off several rounds into the demon that now stood in front of her, thinking it would have been enough to take her down. However this demon had seen this sort of trick before, and learned some herself.

Tracy lowered her gun when she realized the five rounds that she shot off had done nothing to the redhead. Instead all she got as a reaction was a smile. Abaddon lifted up her shirt to reveal the bullet proof vest she was wearing. The hunter was stupid enough to waste all her bullets on a chest shot, why she didn’t go for the head was a rookie mistake she would pay for in mere seconds when Abaddon went over there and ripped her throat out.

“Nice grouping. Kevlar. Beats magic bullets.” She said. “I love the future.”

Dean had some tricks up his sleeve to make the demon back off enough for a chance to get Tracy out of here and get some extra weapons. He twisted off the cap to a flask of holy water and splashed it in Abaddon’s face, happy to know that at least something worked on her. She stumbled backwards as her face burned from the liquid. Dean took his chance to get back up to his feet and make his way over to Tracy. He shoved his car keys into the palm of her hands.

“Listen, my car is three blocks over. Go get more bullets, more holy water—get everything.” He instructed her. Tracy couldn’t help but worry about the man from the danger that he was putting himself in if she left him. “Just go! Go! Now!”

Abaddon felt the burning sensation on her skin slowly subside as she watched Tracy listen to the man, running off and going for more supplies would be rendered useless. The demon grew a toothy smile when she saw Dean turn around and face her, ready to let the real fun begin. She adjusted her red hair and tossed back a loose curl from her face. The demon had been waiting for a very long time to finally see the older Winchester’s handsome face.

“Alone at last.” She said.

Dean responded by taking out an angel blade from the inside of his jacket, something Abaddon wondered to herself how he managed to get hold of such an odd weapon. She smiled at the flimsy little tool that he thought was going to take someone as powerful as her. She watched as he attempted to take a stab at her, but the demon managed to block the shot with ease. Abbadon roughly disarmed him as she bent his arm behind his back, pulling him uncomfortably close to her body with his back pressed against her chest. She made the situation worse by hovering her lips over his ear.

“I missed you. Did you miss me?” She whispered to him. Dean wasn’t given a chance to give a snarky response from the way Abaddon was bending his arm to the point where all it would take was one wrong move and she’d snap it. She pushed him forward and down to his knees, his one arm still painfully in her grasp as the other was wrapped around her wrist. There was no way Dean was going to get out of this one, at least, not without Abaddon’s permission. “So appreciate Y/N and you boys coming when I call. I think that’s what I like most about you Winchesters.” The demon used her free hand to run her hand through Dean’s hair, enjoying the sight of such a handsome face. She smiled when he felt his body stiffen under her touch. She grabbed a fistful of the short locks, forcing his neck back slightly. “You’re so obedient. And suicidally stupid. I like that, too.”

“Are we gonna fight or make out?” Dean asked the demon, wondering where all of this talking was going to lead them. “Cause I’m getting some real mixed signals here.”

“I want Crowley—or what’s left of him.” Abaddon said, giving her reasons to the hunter.

“Yeah?” Dean wondered if that’s all it really was. He flinched when she tugged on his hair, forcing him to look up at her with a tilted neck. “What’s in it for me?”

“I let you die.” Abaddon said. The demon thought her persuasive offer would be something Dean would be very much interested in than deal with the consequences if he didn’t cooperate. “You give me Crowley’s head, and I will snap your neck quick and clean.”

“And if I tell you to get bent?” Dean asked.

“Well…” The demon’s gaze fell away from Dean’s face and to his body, her lips stretched farther into a smile at the sight of a familiar tattoo on his chest. An idea crossed the woman’s mind that seemed like a perfect act of revenge against the man if he didn’t do what she said. “You know, I’ve loved this body since the moment I first saw it.”

Dean grabbed the demon’s wrist when he felt her grab a fistful of his jacket and shirt, bunching up the fabric as she yanked it aside to reveal the one thing stopping her from using his body like a puppet. She smiled at his attempts at fighting back. The man was no match against her. “You’re the perfect vessel, Dean. You give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas. Y/N is a very lucky woman, being able to enjoy this body all to herself.” Abbadon eyed him up like a piece of meat she was ready to devour. “So go ahead, and play hard to get, and I’ll peel off this ‘No demons allowed’ tattoo and blow smoke up your ass.”

“Oh…well, I got to tell you, between you and me, it’s a horror show up there.” Dean warned the demon if she chose to be stupid enough to try and ride around in his skin. The demon merely chuckled at the man’s silly little thoughts that were nothing more than foreplay compared to what she could cook up in a mere afternoon.

“It can get worse. Trust me. Have you ever felt the pure joy of ripping a fetus straight out of a mother’s womb? I was gonna do that to your little girlfriend when I went to the church. Just like how I did to Henry. Remember that? Of course you do. Maybe I’ll make you do it. I’ll use your body any way I please.” Abaddon chuckled darkly when she saw the look that crossed Dean’s face from her own threat. It was so easy to get humans riled up when you went straight for the people they loved. “Let me ask you, Dean. Have you ever felt the blood of an infant drip down your chin? Or listen to a girl scream as you rip her guts out?”

Abaddon forcefully grabbed the man by his face, digging the nail of her index finger into his skin as her thumb rested against his chin. “Because you will.” The demon promised him the torture ahead for him. “You and me lover, and we’ll have a grand old time. Because if there’s anything I can keep, it’s a promise. And I promise I’m gonna kill everyone you love with your own bare hands.”

\+ + +

There was only so much two hunters could do when they were up against three demons. A fight like this wouldn’t have been a problem if you were on your feet and gave Sam a proper warning to take them down when he had the chance. All you could do was regret your slow response as you were dragged back up to your feet by the demon who was crushing your hand with his boot. You tried to put up a proper fight, you really did. But there were only so many times you could handle your head being smashed against the wall before your vision grew blurry. After the demon was done with you for the meantime, he tossed your body across the room like you were a rag doll. A set of chairs broke your fall after you hit the table and went sliding to the ground.

Sam was struggling to hold his own after he was somehow overpowered by the two demons that chose to pick a fight with him as you went up against the other. If given a proper chance, he could have taken them both down, but he realized that the fight was rigged not in his favor when he heard the sound of crashing. And it wasn’t the demon you were going up against when someone decided to join in. Things were starting to look grim as the younger Winchester kept on trying to take them down. If he could find the knife after he dropped it, maybe he could take one or two down before going after the other. One of them demons roughly threw him across the counter and watched as he fell to the floor like a ton of bricks, laughing at how easy this was going to be.

In the moment all Sam could think about was trying to survive and use the knife that he lost on the three demons and not let them use it on him. He didn’t realize that you were back up on your feet after being knocked out cold. It seemed your awakening caused the demons’ attention to shift away from the younger Winchester. They were soon going to realize who they were staring at wasn’t you, but something else. Sam didn’t forget there was someone else hitching a ride in your skin. A silent passenger who was healing your internal wounds and organs back to normal. The angel hadn’t made a peep or broken his problems about doing what needed to be done. But it seemed that Ezekial had come out just in time, as if he knew the both of you needed a lending hand.

Sam quickly lowered himself to the ground when he saw your eyes starting to glow a bright blue, as if the angel was warning him for what was about to be done. He heard a warning about covering his eyes before the room was lit into a blinding white light. The ground beneath his feet began to violently shake from whatever the angel was doing. Whatever he had done, it stopped quickly as it started. When Sam noticed the ringing in his ears stopped and his vision grew black, he noticed things had calmed down. He outstretched his hand and placed it on the counter, using it to push himself up to his feet to inspect the damage Ezekiel had inflicted.

The younger Winchester looked to see that Ezekiel was standing over the dead body of the demon who was ready to kill him with the same knife the angel was using to slit the monster’s throat. Sam wondered why Ezekie was doing that when the demon was already dead. But then he realized, the angel was covering his tracks. He was making it look like one of you had done this. Sam made his way from behind the counter and watched as Ezekiel continued to work on the last body, finishing up right as his brother rushed in to see what the commotion was all about after witnessing only a glimpse from the outside.

"Thanks for the heads up.” Sam spoke up, his tone of voice made him sound the least bit thankful for the rescue. And he wasn’t. He still wasn’t sure how he felt the angel possessing you. You were tricked into having another partner walking in your skin, healing you up. He knew now was not the time to strike up the argument about his disagreement with the plan.

“They were going to kill you and Y/N.” The angel must have felt Sam’s lingering stare, the frustration from the unexpected jump in appearance after being quiet for the past few days. Ezekiel turned his head to give the man a blank, almost unreadable expression.

“Ezekiel?” Dean sounded surprised to see the angel was the one who was still out and about, cleaning up the mess that he had made so it wouldn’t cause any suspicion for when you woke up. The older Winchester turned his head to see that his brother was okay. A little pissed off, but same from harm. “The hell did you do?”

“We had it under control.” Sam said.

“If I didn’t intervene when I did, you would be dead right. And so would Y/N. I was protecting your friend.” Ezekial said. Sam knew the angel was right about that. But he wouldn’t admit to it. The silence that followed told the angel he wasn’t going to be thanked for the rescue. He didn’t understand the younger man’s hostility towards him, he was merely doing what was promised. “I thought that was what the both of you wanted.”

“Right, yeah, no.” Dean mumbled out a response to the angel, his mind racing too fast for him to comprehend the situation he was in right now. For a split second he thought he was still talking to you. It looked like you, sounded like you. But the person standing in front of him was an angel who promised to help. Ezekiel hadn’t made such a peep since he hitched a ride in your body a few days ago. Seeing him out and about took Dean a moment to comprehend. “I-I…sorry, I’m just still getting used to this whole thing."

“As am I.” The angel agreed with the complexity of the situation.

"Is she gonna be okay, at least?” Sam asked the angel in a concerned tone of voice. if anything, your well being was the one thing he cared most about. “Y/N. Is she gonna be okay?”

“She was knocked unconscious. In a way, she still is.” Ezekiel said. “Y/N will not remember any of this."

"So what the hell am I supposed to tell her when she comes to?” Dean questioned the angel.

Dean was no stranger to a situation like this; two souls sharing a body with one not knowing the other was there. It happened too many times with you. The memory loss, the questions. He didn’t want to deal with the complications like he had to when you were still a half demon. When you found out about that, the fall out caused damage in a monsterous way. But this…this was worse than any of that somehow. Not only would he lose your trust you would most likely never forgive him. Maybe you would never be able to look at him in the eye. And when you did, all you could think of was that he was a selfish man. Choosing your life over another. “Selfish little bastard. That’s what you are. You should’ve let me die…you should’ve let me be at peace."

"That’s why I used the knife.” Ezekiel’s voice broke the man out of his personal thoughts. Dean looked down to see the demon knife in the angel’s outstretched hand.

“Right.” Dean muttered, grabbing the knife by the handle and dropped his arm back down to his side. “Smart."

Ezekial noticed the shift in Dean’s voice first before his expression began to change. Despite talking to him, Dean couldn’t look at him directly in the eye for very long. He slowly turned around so his back was facing him. Dean must have felt as if he wasn’t speaking to an angel, but you. He was lying to your face without having talked to you directly. "You are troubled, still."

"Yeah, it’s that, uh…this is on me. I was the one who talked Y/N out of boarding up Hell. Okay? And I know what would’ve happened if I let her. All of this is my fault. I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me who did those trials. Not her. Not Sammy.” Dean admitted his guilt for the entire situation that affected them here. He looked over at his brother, as if he was silently wanting to let him know not to carry this burden. All of this fell on his shoulders. If he had been quicker, if he said no to Cas maybe all of this would have turned out differently. But it didn’t. “So every demon deal, every kill they make…well, you’re looking at the person who let it happen.”

“Dean, come on.” Sam suddenly spoke up after hearing the nonsense that was coming out of his brother’s mouth. “It’s not your fault.”

“You were protecting Y/N. I am in her head. Everything she knows, I know. And I know what you did, you did out of love.” Ezekiel said. The words weren’t reassuring enough to help ease the older Winchester’s worried mind. “You two are soulmates, correct? Dean slowly nodded his head, wondering why it suddenly mattered. The angel’s lips stretched into a smile. "It’s a love not many humans will experience in their lifetime. But it doesn’t always show in romantic forms. I believe it can be palontic as well. The three of you have a strong bond. Unbreakable. She can feel it."

"Yeah, uh, look, Zeke—and I’m gonna call you Zeke—we’re not really with the whole love, and…love.” Dean was starting to feel a little awkward from how this conversation was shifting into sharing their feelings. He did it for almost no one. He barely let his brother in sometimes. The only person who could see him at worst, the most vulnerable was you. He always had a soft spot for you. He was the only one who told you that he loved you. Three little words with such heavy meaning. And yet they felt too hard to say these days when the both of you needed to hear it the most.

“But it is why I said yes.” Ezekiel said.

“Yeah, and if that goes sideways, that’s on me, too.” Dean said, shifting the blame on himself for a situation that hasn’t even arisen yet.

“That’s not going to happen.” The angel reassured them both.

Ezekiel’s kind words didn’t help the older Winchester’s racing mind. Dean let out a chuckle from the situation he was in. “This is nuts. I mean, you’re Y/N, but you’re not Y/N, and normally she’s the one I’m talking to about all this stuff. You think I would be used to talking to someone else in her skin.” Dean muttered the last remark to himself, his lips stretching into a weak smile at how this situation was spiraling. “Sam and I are trusting you, Zeke. I just gotta hope you’re one of the good guys."

"I am.” Ezekiel promised both of the Winchesters that he wasn’t like his siblings. However the angel was quick to realize how the human mind worked. Sometimes a worded promise didn’t come with reassurance that they meant what they spoke. They were complicated creatures, their words were flimsy. They could mean so much to a person, and yet so little. “But I suppose that is what a bad guy would say. Sam and Dean Winchester, you are doing the right thing.”

The brothers slowly looked away from the angel, finding their gaze reached to each other. Ezekiel’s words were full of reassurance and hopefulness that everything was going to be okay in the end of all of this. Much as things seemed like it could be, but nothing was going to make the guilt that came as a heavy weight on their chest loosen up even the slightest. If anything, the words made it feel worse. Both of them stared at one another with the same defeated, almost pained expression. If this was the right thing, the only good thing they could have done to save you…then why did it feel so wrong?

\+ + +

You didn’t come back around right away. The boys kept themselves busy while your body remained where it was on the floor, making it appear as if things were left as you last remembered them. Dean dropped the last of the supplies into the duffel bag as you slowly made it back into consciousness. You weren’t sure what was going on right away, feeling the coldness against your bruised cheek made you piece together that you were on the floor. How you got here was still a blur. You shifted around slightly as you tried to sit up, but the sudden jolt of pain reminded you that you weren’t willingly put here. A demon had thrown you across the room…

The sound of someone speaking your name made you jump slightly in the noise you weren’t expecting, your mind tricking you into thinking it was a demon trying to go another round with you. When you looked up to see that it was just the boys, Dean holding the bloody knife that you remembered his brother lost in the fight you had gotten into, you were confused as to what was going on. You looked around the diner from where you were to see that it was just the three of you.

“Guys?” You winced as you slowly pushed yourself up into a sitting position, wiping your hands clean from the dirt you accidentally touched. You noticed the bodies of the demons you had tried going up against, now lying on the ground dead. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion and looked up at the brothers. “What the hell happened?”

“You took a shot to the head, Sammy was pinned up against three demons. I came in and saved your asses, like usual.” Dean gave you a recap on what you missed out on.

“You killed three demons?” You asked him. “Alone?”

“I took them by surprise while Sam distracted them.” Dean slapped a hand on his brother’s back and cracked a smile at the fake story he was making up on the spot. To you, it sounded like the truth. He slipped the clean knife back into the inside pocket for safe keeping. “Got a little messy. I got a little lucky. Oh, and uh…” He outstretched for you to take and pulled you back up to your feet like you weighed nothing. “I’m awesome, so there’s that.”

“Geez. Yeah. You are pretty damn awesome. Nice work.” Your eyes wandered around the three dead bodies that were led to believe were killed by Dean. A smirk spread across your lips as you looked over at the younger Winchester. “You did good, too, Sasquatch.”

Sam couldn’t help himself but smile at hearing the nickname for the first time in what felt like forever. The conversation was monentaly paused when you heard what sounded like the Impala’s engine coming your way. You and the boys headed out to see Tracy was coming your way, she parked the car out front and got out to greet all of you. You felt a little easier knowing she was at least safe from the harm.

“Hey. You okay?” You asked her, expecting a snarky response in return.

“Yeah.” She said. “What about you two?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “More or less, yeah.”

“Good.” Tracy took you by surprise when she sounded rather happy to hear. She must’ve noticed your slightly skeptical look at her change in behavior. She tossed the keys to Dean and made her way to the backseat. "I got everything. But guess I’m late to the party.”

“Lucky you. Let’s blow this toxic waste dump.” Dean said. All of you took your respectful places and got comfortable for the long drive ahead of you. “Burgers and silkwood showers on me."

You smiled at the thought of eating something and washing away the possible containimentation you were subjected to. You might not have been able to take down Abaddon easily as how you wanted, and not to mention how Irv was killed. But you had to take your wins where you got them. You and the boys made it out in one piece, ready to see another day.

\+ + +

Heading back to the bunker after a long hunt like the one you and the boys had endured over the past few days was always a good feeling after dealing with all the stress you were put under. Dean made sure to drop Tracy off somewhere safe so she could continue hunting on her own. She left knowing a little more about how to slow down a demon if they tried to rear their ugly head in her direction, and maybe even a bit more at peace with herself from the things in her past that lead her here. You and the boys decided to celebrate the victory against the knight of hell by grabbing some dinner along the way home, and some prune juice for Kevin. Dean mentioned the reason why, but you stopped him before he could go into further detail about the kid’s bathroom issues. You were worried about his well being, yet there were some things that didn’t personally need to know about the kid.

You called out Kevin’s name when you hit the bottom step of the staircase and looked around the place to see if you might be able to spot him anywhere. You guessed he was working on translating the tablet as some sort of distraction to keep himself busy from the added stress he was under. Having to be under the same roof as the demon who personally tortured him and destroyed his life was a heavy burden you didn’t want to force on the kid, but you didn’t have much of a choice. You found yourself stopping in your tracks after taking a look into the library to see that it was empty. You tried shouting Kevin’s name one more time when you noticed there was nobody here except for the three of you. All you got in return was silence. You and the boys exchanged a worried look before you bolted for the dungeon.

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach when you noticed the makeshift shelf that hid away Crowley was slightly ajared despite the door being closed shut. You turned on the lights and headed inside to somehow see if Crowley made his great escape. However what you saw waiting for you didn’t ease your worried mind. Crowley sat in the chair as you left him, handcuffed and no evidence of any sort of attempt to him escaping. However you noticed he was beaten and bloody, like someone had personally taken out their aggression against him. The demon seemed to be unbothered by his new wounds.

“Who worked you over?” Dean asked the demon.

“Martin Hayward and Brandon Favors.” Crowley replied with a set of names you’d never heard of before. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion.

“They did this to you?” Sam guessed.

“No. They’re demons. You asked for names, I’m giving you names.” Crowley said. You and the boys were taken aback from the piece of information he was willingly giving you without a fuss. “They’re underperformers. Spike them, you’re doing me a favor.”

“Wow.” Dean scoffed at the demon’s cooperation. “You break easy.”

“Please. Your little plan to have me stew in my own…delicious juices—pathetic. You want intel. I want things, too.” Crowley said. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow slightly from his negotiations he was trying to make with you. “Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. Quid pro quo, lady and gentlemen.”

“So, these are what, then? Freebies?” You wondered. “Because you’re not the generous type.”

“You’re right. I’m not at all.” Crowley agreed with you on that point. “You can consider them a fair trade for the enjoyment Kevin gave me.”

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest at the mention of the prophet’s name coming out of the demon’s mouth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s my new favorite toy.” He said. “Wind him up, watch him go.”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh from hearing the advice he gave to Kevin turn out to be nothing more than wasted breath on his part. Crowley did nothing more than lean back in his seat and smile at the added trauma he added to the kid he loved messing with. Kevin had already been teetering on the edge from all the stress he had endured over the past year. Whatever the demon said to get under the kid’s skin might have pushed him over the edge to the point of no return. “Check on the names.” Dean instructed you and his brother. “I’ll go find the kid.”

You turned your attention back over to the demon when you saw Dean make his way out of the dungeon and back out into the hall to see if he might be able to find Kevin before it was too late. The memory of Crowley in the church crossed your mind. You remembered seeing a human side to Crowley, someone who confessed about wanting to be loved. Who was willing to confess his greatest sins for a chance at being something he hadn’t been in a few centuries. What you saw now was the same arrogant, power hungry demon who got off on trying to break people from the inside out. You shook your head slightly from the way his lips dragged further into a smirk and left him in the dungeon with the only company to occupy him was himself.

Dean managed to make it back up to the main level of the bunker just in time to see the kid he had been searching for, who was trying to make his escape with a backpack of his stuff hanging off his shoulder. There was no way in hell the prophet was going step outside that door. “Where do you think you’re going?” Dean called out to the younger man. Kevin barely glanced in the older Winchester’s direction as he made his way to the staircase. Dean quickly reached out and grabbed the handle to Kevin’s backpack, stopping the kid from going anywhere. “Hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa. Talk to me.”

“You can’t keep me locked in here.” Kevin stated. “I’m leaving.”

“Like hell.” Dean argued with the kid about his plans. His tone of voice was full of frustration and aggravation from how careless Kevin was acting in the moment. “Man, we told you not to talk to Crowley, okay? He messes with your head.”

“He said my mom’s alive.” Kevin confessed something the demon told him while he was doing his form of payback. “Crowley said if I let him go, he’d give her back to me.”

Dean couldn’t help himself but scoff at the blatant sounding lie. “And you believed him?”

“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” Kevin questioned the man.

The older man fell silent for a few seconds before responding, “Crowley’s lying."

“And if he’s not?” Kevin asked him.

“Well…if she is alive, then she’s dead. In every way that matters, she’s dead, Kevin. I’m sorry.” Dean hated the fact that he had to tell Kevin of another possibility that would make him want to have his mother be dead than having her still breathing and living some kind of torture Crowley cooked up. It was so easy to run from this lifestyle and hold out for that little piece of hope that things might be okay. You fight just to have a chance of something that reminds you of a normal life. Something that makes you feel secure, safe. Dean had been in that position not too long ago. And it never goes the way you want. “I know you’re dying to bolt, man. I get it. But out that door, it’s demons and it’s angels, and they would all love to get their hands on a prophet, so even with Crowley here, this is still the safest place for you. It just is. And we need you, man.”

“‘Cause I’m useful.” Kevin muttered.

“Because you’re family.” Dean stated the real reason why he wanted him to stay. “After all the crap we’ve been through, after all the good that you’ve done…man, if you don’t think that we would die for you…I don’t know what to tell you. Because you, me, Sam, Cas and Y/N—we are all that we’ve got.” Things might not have been clear enough for the kid to understand where he stood with the four of you, but Dean was going to tell him flat out for the first and final time. “But, hey, if none of that matters to you, then I won’t stop you. Just say goodbye to Sammy and Y/N on your way out. Sure they’re not gonna be heartbroken on your decision. We’ve already lost one family member, why not one more?”

Dean only realized until the words that came out of his mouth how it might have been a low blow. He didn’t want Kevin to leave. He couldn’t stomach the idea of something happening to him. Every part of the kid wanted to step outside that door and run away from the people that hadn’t abandoned him. Not when he ran around the country, not when he refused to be a part of this lifestyle. They kept pushing, because that’s what family does. Kevin slid off the backpack from his shoulder, letting the strap hang low in his hand out of a sign of defeat. Sometimes family is three hunters and an angel. It’s not perfect, but it was all Kevin had.

Kevin promised to unpack his things in the morning and settle himself into the bunker for a more permanent stay. He grabbed the bottle of prune juice and headed back for a restful night’s sleep he had been fighting off for the past several days. Dean felt a little more at ease knowing the kid was going to be somewhat all right. He took the chance to shrug off his jacket and find where you and his brother wandered off too. It was no surprise when he spotted you working diligently in the library with a book open and a pad of paper next you. You scribbled something down before you skimmed the pages of the book, the pen tapping against the paper.

“Kevin’s passed out in one of the back rooms. He’s a tough kid. He’ll bounce back.” Dean said, giving up an update on the kid after the scare he put you all through. Dean poured himself a drink out of the fancy glassware that kept the more expensive liquor he enjoyed on occasion with his brother. He made sure to get you one now that you could drink. He glanced up when he noticed you replied with a silent nod. “What’s up with you?”

“I love you. You know that, right?” Dean smiled slightly at the sudden randomness of your answer to his question and how serious you sounded when you uttered the three words that made his heart beat a little faster. He grabbed the glasses and made his way over to where you were sitting and placed it in front of you. When he saw you staring up at him with a no nonsense kind of expression, almost as if you were making sure of it. He felt his smile slowly falter. "I don't know if I say it too much. Or not enough. I just want to let you know I do. I always have. And I always will." 

"I know, sweetheart. I love you, too." Dean said. He dropped himself into the chair across from you and leaned back in his seat, wondering what had gotten into you to act like this. You looked like you were on the sudden verge of tears, but you were doing everything not to lose it just yet. Dean gestured with an arm for you to come over to him, you got up from your seat and made your way over to his awaiting lap. You wanted to be near him. To feel his embrace around your body. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck and shut your eyes when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

"It's just...I've been thinking about what Tracy said about me—she's not wrong." You whispered your confession to him about how you were feeling at the moment. Maybe it was how you felt ever since you heard the news a few days ago. You could only bury it for so long before it came rising back to the surface with a vengeance. "I've done things that I regret. I hurt people...people who I was supposed to protect." 

"Hey, look at me." Dean forced you to sit up straight and look at him in the eye, wanting you to hear the truth about the matter. "You have helped a hell of a lot more people than you have hurt. So all of that—that was then. Okay? But I know that's not what's really bothering you. Tell me the truth." Dean reached up and softly brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. You hated how he could read you so well. You let out a sigh. “Are you...doing okay?” 

“I don’t know. I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders from the answer you gave him. If you were being honest, you weren't sure exactly what the proper answer was. “How are you supposed to feel after everything that happened?”

“Whatever you want.” Dean said. “There’s no wrong or right way to handle this.” 

“I...I’m sorry for what happened.” You apologized to him. Dean’s expression softened from the way your tone shifted into a more quieter pitch and how your eyes darted away from him before they would make contact again with his. You let out a frustrated sigh when you felt yourself becoming overwhelmed with your emotions as you turned your head completely away from him. You tried your hardest to fight off the tears that were threatening to fall. He felt his heart drop slightly from the way your voice sounded. It was the same kind of way when you found out the truth if you kept going with the trials. All the things you let yourself believe over the past few months. “If I knew...If I could stop it...It’s all my fault.” 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your gaze back to him and stared into his eyes as he brushed away the few tears that managed to slip out. You looked exactly like how you had when you were given the reality of the situation. So tired, so defeated. There was no amount of lying that he could do to stop you from feeling these kinds of emotions. You had a right to grieve, the both of you did together. “You didn’t know. How could you? This isn’t your fault.” You rolled your eyes and tried to get away from him, but he was quick to keep you pinned down on his lap. He wasn’t finished speaking the truth you needed to hear. “You’re still the woman I love. Nothing will ever change that. And I would never look at you any differently because of this. It breaks my heart thinking that you do.”

“But why do I feel so guilty over it? I mean, I was only six weeks. I know women lose babies way later. Women who want children. We didn’t plan on having one, and let’s be real...I really didn’t want one. But I still feel sad because I lost them. And for some reason it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I was robbed from that chance. I don’t know why.” You confessed to him. “And I feel so bad for you. I mean, this was yours as it was mine…” 

“I’m sad. I’ll be honest. When you were in the hospital recovering for those two days, I had some time to think about everything. What would life be like if we did have a kid and all that.” Dean said. “I mean, I tried being a father once or twice. Never worked out in my favor.”

“Sammy turned out okay.” You said, jumping to the man’s defense. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders at your example. “He can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” The joke made the slightest smile spread across your lips, but it didn’t last long as he’d hoped for. 

“There’s also another part of me that keeps thinking...could we really be parents? I mean, do you think it would be a good idea to bring a baby into this world with everything going on right now?” You wondered. “The fallen angels. Abaddon. Cas losing his halo. The king of hell in our basement?” 

“It’s not all bad.” Dean said, trying to look on the brighter side of things. “We’ve got a roof over our heads. Enough knowledge between the both of us to keep the kid alive and not totally screw it up. You would stay at home while I went out saving the world with Sammy. Cas could babysit every once in a while. It could be like our very own messed up sitcom.” 

"Right. I could be the next June Cleaver." You felt a smile tugging at the ends of your lips at the thought of you staying at home with a newborn while Dean went out on hunts with his brother. But it disappeared quickly as it came. "It's a nice thought. But…”

“But, what?” Dean asked. 

“It’s gonna be tough before things get back to our kind of normal. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ve got family and friends who care for me. A prophet who is practically like raising a child full time just trying to keep him happy. It’s gonna be tough. And having to come to the realization that getting married and having a kid...it’s just a thought. That’s what it’s always gonna be.” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing quietly to yourself about something you thought was going to be your future just a week ago. Now you brushed it off like it was a joke, a situation that you were okay about never being able to achieve. “For the first time in a very long time...the future doesn’t look bleak anymore. Things are gonna be okay. Eventually. But I can deal with that.”

Dean felt his heart sink deeper into his chest at your words and how casual they sounded. Once upon a time you were over the moon about the future you were making for you and him. He remembered the conversation you had with him about wanting a family. The night you found out he had a child of his own and how it all turned out when you were supposedly dead. It was also the night you convinced your own baby. For those six months you thought you were going to have it all; shutting the gates of hell, you and him getting hitched, having a baby. Now all of it was meaningless. Your perspective changed on what you wanted out of life. You were wearing rose tinted glasses to the world around you and the damage done without even realizing it. 

You thought you were given a second chance at doing things right when plans to shut the gates of hell went belly up. The pregnancy you had was barely starting, not enough for one to grieve for long. Angels falling from the sky. Cas human as the three of you. A knight of hell doing who knows what. But for Dean, that wasn’t the worst of it. You didn’t know the truth. About how far along you really were, the angel hitching a ride in your skin that was healing your internal organs and sprucing himself up. To you, everything would slowly go back to the way it was. 

Dean leaned back in his seat when you got up from his lap and made your way back over to your own chair to get back to work. He took another sip of his drink and wondered how the hell he got himself into this situation. A part of him was starting to wonder if it was a good thing you were starting to think like him. Did he rob you from ever wanting to have that chance again if things ever settled down enough for you to propose the question of having a family? Despite knowing the truth about how it would turn out in the end, Dean still wanted to have that comfort. The possibility if things changed. Maybe somewhere in another dimension you could have that family. But in this life, it was never going to happen. And he had to be okay with that. 


	3. I'm No Angel.

Dean woke up alone in bed…once again. He discovered the other side of the bed was empty when he rolled over with the intentions of being greeted by your sleeping face on the occasion you didn’t wake up before him. He hadn’t felt you slip out of bed, however he discovered nothing more than crumpled up sheets and a cold pillow which meant you had been gone for a while. The bedroom door was shut and your phone that you charged last night was gone. Dean didn’t think much of it and decided to roll out of bed himself. You had been doing this a lot since being back home. Dean grabbed his robe and made his way to the kitchen, thinking you might be in there having breakfast. 

He caught you in there or the library enjoying your meal while reading a book that wasn’t lore, it was one of the many you insisted on bringing back from your old home. The back pain Dean felt after lugging in all those damn books on his own made it worthwhile seeing you go back into some old hobbies you used to have before you started hunting. Ever since then most reading you got to do was about monsters and how to fix your latest problem. 

But the kitchen was empty. And there was nobody in the library. Dean discovered that after he fixed himself a cup of coffee and wandered around the place to see if he might be able to find you somewhere. But there seemed to be nobody around except for himself. The bunker was quiet. Almost too quiet for his liking. Kevin was probably still sleeping. Even his brother was nowhere to be found. Dean was too lazy to knock on Sam’s door to see if he was in there by chance. He knew the man didn’t know the meaning of sleeping in when there was so much to do. Dean called out his brother’s name, followed by yours a few seconds later. The response he got each time was empty silence. His lips stretched into a slight frown. Where the hell were you two? It wasn’t like the both of you to be out this morning. Maybe you sent him a text without him realizing. 

“Hey.” Dean turned around his spot and looked upwards in the direction of the bunker’s door when he heard it open followed by the sound of your voice. You greeted him with a smile as you made your way down the staircase with Sam following behind. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Dean noticed the both of you looked like you were ready for the day, showered and dressed in regular clothes. He glanced down at his watch to see that it was just a little after eight. He forced himself not to appear annoyed at your chipper attitude. “You two’ve been outside already?”

“Yeah. Y/N got up a little bit before I did.” Sam said. “She asked me to go on a run with her.” 

“You should join us sometime. The sunrise was beautiful this morning.” Your generous offer was greeted with nothing more than a deadpan expression, causing you to smile a little more when you realized he just got out of bed and was barely on his first cup of coffee. “Anyways, we cleaned up and got some breakfast. Even made sure to grab some for you. Real bacon and eggs, extra grease.” You handed over the plastic container of the hot meal you had packed right before you left the diner. The mention of artery clogging food was what made the man perk up in delight. You let out a faint sigh and shook your head at his diet. “Not even gonna complain." 

“Mm, perfect.” Dean pulled out one of the rolling chairs and took a seat in the war room, ready to dig into his unexpected breakfast. You tossed the keys to the Impala onto the table and joined the boys. Dean was more than ready to devour his meal, that was, until the few sips of caffeine he had started to make the wheels in his brain start turning. He realized what you had said just a few seconds prior. "Wait, you went running?”

“Yeah. Sammy and I always talk about doing it together, too, but we really never got the chance. And I used to go running almost every morning years ago. I want to get back into the habit. It’s a good way to relieve stress.“ You shrugged your shoulders, not sure what the big deal was. The look that Dean gave his little brother made you chuckle quietly from his sudden shift in behavior. "What? Why do you look so worried? I went running on my own before.”

“Let’s see. There’s Cas, who I told to haul ass here. That was days ago. He’s still out there. Uh,” Dean pretended to think about the things that had been lingering in the back of his mind. You shrugged off your jacket and listened to his concerns. When you heard his next one, you leaned back in your seat and rolled your eyes. “There’s you.” 

“Me?” You scoffed off his concern. “I feel great.” 

“I’m sure you do, but, Y/N, you went through the trials. Okay, that put a big strain on you.” Dean reminded you of something you very well knew. It was something you discussed with him too many times over the past week since being home. You moved your gaze away from the man to hide yet another eye roll from the way he was overreacting in your mind. “ I just think it’s better if you took it easy, you know, and didn’t act like you were—”

“Possessed by an angel?” You cut off the older Winchester, giving him a response that took both of the brothers by surprise. The change in your body language was enough of a red flag for the boys to realize that you weren’t in change anymore. The annoyed expression in your face was replaced with a calmer one. The person they were now speaking to was Ezekiel. "And she 

feel better. A work in progress, of course, but I am slowly healing her.” 

“That’s great.” Sam mumbled with irritance in his voice. He was unsure as to why the angel was making another appearance without a proper reason. “Um, but—”

“I have news. I’ve picked up chatter among the angels.” Ezekiel informed the brothers of an important update about his fellow siblings he thought they might have wanted to know about. “Not all are wandering around in confusion.” 

“Yeah, some of ‘em are after Cas.” Dean said. 

“There is a faction that is rapidly organizing and finding human vessels to contain them.” Ezekiel told them more. 

“Led by Naomi?” The older Winchester wondered. 

“I have not heard that name, no.” Ezekiel said. Dean was a little disappointed from hearing this. However the angel had some important news about their fellow friend they had been discussing prior to making his unexpected presence. "But it is this faction’s leadership who want Castiel found.” Sam furrowed his brow slightly from what the angel said next. “You see, I can be useful.” 

“So can Y/N.” Sam quickly responded. He didn’t understand why the angel was out again. This wasn’t part of the promise the three of them had made. Not that Sam agreed. He still wouldn’t budge on his beliefs about how things went down. No matter how much the angel promised his intentions were good, Sam thought everything should have turned out differently. But he couldn’t change what his brother had done. All he could do was bite his tongue and let the angel do what he promised, which was to heal you up. Nothing more, nothing less. “Why don’t you go keep your ear to the ground. And if we need your help, we’ll let you know.” 

“Dean,” Ezekiel shifted his gaze over to the older man. 

“I said,” Sam quickly spoke up to reassure the angel, his voice shifting into a harder tone as he continued on on his brother’s behalf that wasn’t going to change things. “we’ll let you know.” 

“I mean, you know, Cas is human now.” You scratched the back of your neck as you leaned back farther in your seat, continuing on with the conversation you were having with the boys just a minute ago without a hiccup. The boys were a little bit startled at how you were suddenly back in the present like nothing happened. “It’s gonna take him a lot longer to travel." 

"I’m gonna get whiplash.” Dean muttered to himself. You furrowed your brow slightly from his unexpected remark, wondering why he would say something so random. He quickly cleared his throat and tried to cover his tracks. “Nothing. Um, all right, so, I was thinking that if the angels are organizing, then that makes them a lot more dangerous than we thought.”

“Okay. That’s a little random, don’t you think?“ You chuckled quietly from the shift in the topic of conversation you thought you were having about Cas. "Why do you think the angels are organizing?”

Dean opened his mouth slightly from why you were suddenly looking baffled at the topic they were discussing not even thirty seconds ago. He was trying to keep up with this new game he was playing, luckily, Sam came to his rescue before you could start asking questions. “It makes sense.” Sam said. You narrowed your eyes slightly as you looked at the both of them from the way they were suddenly acting. “I think Dean’s point is that the more of them are after Cas, the worse it is, so…we got to find him.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” You said. “Eat your breakfast. Sam and I’ll get started on tracking him, meet us in the library when you’re done.” 

You got up from your seat and gave a quick peck on the man’s cheek before running off somewhere else in the bunker to get started on the hunt ahead of you. When he heard your footsteps grow quieter in the distance, Dean looked over at his brother, both of them stressed out from the close call they were given without warning. The first time Ezekiel had jumped out without warning it was an easy fix of life or death. Now he popped out to give some important info about a topic they weren’t even discussing? It meant that he was doing more than listening to angel radio and healing up your liver, he was eavesdropping in on your conversations. Dean grabbed his cup of coffee to take another sip. This wasn’t the terms he signed up for. But it was something he was going to have to adjust to. For your sake. 

\+ + + 

"All right, so this is where Cas called from on Tuesday, Longmont, Colorado.” You looked down at the map Dean had laid out on the table and inspected the three circles he had drawn with a compass. Sam sat next to the both of you with his laptop open to help conduct the search for Cas more efficiently. “Each circle is how far he might have gotten in one, two, and three days out.” 

It wasn’t the first time Cas had been without his wings that rendered him human-ish. But this was different. Last time he was put in a weakened state he pulled a drastic move that sent him halfway across the country, and there was still a bit of an angel left in him to make it back safely. This time all he had was the knowledge you had taught him to get back here in one piece. Now that time was slipping away faster and neither one of you had heard from him, you were starting to grow worried that something might bad happened to him. It took Sam all of five seconds to find something that might help you in the search to find Cas. 

“Here we go. The same day he called from Longmont, weird murder, same town.” Sam said. He pulled up a police report and skimmed over the details before reading them back to you. “Cops said it was like the girl was blasted from the inside out.” 

“Angel kill.” You said. You looked back and forth between the boys from your suspicion who could be blamed for the death. There was no doubt about it that those bastards were capable of doing something like that. “They might have just missed Cas. Unless…they got him.” 

Sam glanced back over to his laptop screen from the reality he wanted to avoid the most. He clicked on another tab he had opened of an article that caught his attention and might be worth your while to check out. “You got an Emory Park, Iowa?”

“Emory Park, Emory Park. I just saw that.” Dean mumbled to himself. He leaned back down to the map and searched for the location before finding it and tapping the small fon with his index finger. “Yeah, a couple of days outside of Longmont.” 

“Okay, because two priests were murdered there Thursday. Eyes blown out, evidence of torture.” Sam read off from the article. You grimaced slightly from the unsettling details inflicted on someone who didn’t seem to deserve such a punishment without reason. “They were impaled on posts.” 

“Torture? Which means angels are looking for info.“ You suspected the reason for the brutal methods they were going upon to get what they wanted, which was Cas. And they were proving to just about anything to get their hands on him. You let out a sigh of frustration and rubbed a hand against your face. “I swear, if they get to him before we do…”

Whatever kind of methods angels were inflicting on civilians was nothing compared to the things they had planned for the person who was to blame for all of this mess. You and the boys wasted no time at all packing up your belongings and hit the road, hoping that you were somehow faster than those angels. 

\+ + +

The next afternoon you were in Iowa dressed in the usual pencil skirt and blazer combination that helped you pass as a federal agent talking to someone who worked at the church as a groundskeeper. You weren’t here to discuss the murders, but someone you hoped that he might have met during his time here. You described Cas as someone who was yeh tall from what you could remember, brown hair and blue eyes with a gravelly voice to match. You felt a little relieved to hear that the man knew exactly who you were searching for. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I think I know this guy you’re talking about. Sounds like Clarence.” The man pulled off his gloves as you and Dean followed him into the gated part of the church grounds. You felt a smile tug at the ends of your lips from the mention of a name you hadn’t heard in a while. It disappeared quickly as it came when the man turned around to face the both of you. “The church—it runs a shelter in town, and we work here. We earn our keep. Clarence spent a couple of nights, and then he had to move on.” 

“And he left the day the bodies were found?” Dean asked. 

“Matter of fact.” The man said. You were a little bit relieved to hear Cas managed to get out of dodge right after all of this went down, which meant he might still be under angel radar. "Oh, man, those poor guys were a mess. They must have suffered bad. But at least now they’re with the angels.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” Dean muttered a remark to himself, loud enough for the man to hear. From the look that crossed his face, the man didn’t find it the least bit amusing. You cleared your throat and gave the man a warning glare to keep comments like that to himself until the three of you were alone with the proper audience. “Clarence happen to mention where he was headed?

“No.” The man said. “He just said he always had to keep going.” 

You smiled and thanked the man for his time before heading back to the Impala where Sam had been working himself on continuing this lead after yours ended turning into a dead end. You slipped into the backseat while Dean got back into the driver’s side. Sam stopped typing on his laptop when he heard the doors slam shut, breaking his concentration from the research he had been conducting while you and his brother were gone. 

“All right. Well, he’s definitely been here. Good news is that he’s getting cagey. And he’s using a fake name—Clarence.” You informed the younger man what you learned from the talk you just had. The mention of the false identity made you chuckle. “Isn’t that adorable?”

“That’s what Meg used to call him. Of course, he doesn’t get that’s the name of a pretty famous angel.” Sam scoffed at the mention of a past nickname the demon you used to despise gave to Cas a long while back. Dean didn’t see why it was so funny to you and his brother. You gave the man a confused look when he failed to catch on. “It’s a Wonderful Life.’” Sam told his brother the pop culture reference the both of you knew, however the man still wasn’t sure exactly where it was from. “Dude, seriously?”

“Oh my God. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it before. It’s a movie. A very old, very famous Christmas movie.” You found the man’s lack of knowledge about a classic of that status a little unsettling from the other things he chose to educate himself about. You rolled your eyes before you veered the conversation back to what was more important to you at the moment. “Sammy, did you come up with anything useful?”

“Another angel kill, outside of a town called Lafayette about a day’s travel east of here.” Sam said. You leaned forward in your seat to catch a glimpse of the man’s laptop screen to see the article he pulled up. “Body was found in a homeless camp. Insides barbecued, the whole nine.”

“Homeless guy?” You wondered. 

“No,” Sam said. “a pharmacist from Dayton.” 

The lack of correlation between a pharmacist being in a homeless hotspot for no other reason than to dedicate his time to helping them was enough for you and the boys to head to Indiana in hopes that you might be able to catch Cas in time. Dean turned on the engine and wasted no time hitting the open road again, ready to drive all night if it meant you reached your friend faster before one of his siblings. You swore if one of those angels managed to get their grubby hands on Cas, you were going to raise more than hell to get him back.

\+ + +

The next morning you and the boys were at the local police precinct that reported the crime of your dead pharmacist that was your next big lead in trying to find Cas’ latest whereabouts. You greeted the detective who was working the case with a lie that you were here on the behalf of the FBI to lend out a helping hand. While he led you up to his office, he told you about the strange details in the case that left him scratching his head. And the reason why you were here in the first place.

You stepped out of the elevator when all of you got up to the level in the building where his office was located, following behind him through the busy floor with other officers going about their day. “Damnedest thing if I ever saw. Vic had a stab wound, but it’s not what killed him.” The detective continued on. “It’s like his insides were—”

“Vaporized?” Dean cut off the man, giving him a word that might help describe what he saw a little better. The detective turned his head to give the older Winchester a sort of surprised look at how eerily accurate he was. Deans shrugged. “It’s been going around.”

“So, this guy was a pharmacist from Ohio?” Sam asked the detective.

“Apparently. Total family man, religious. One day, just hops in the S.U.V, takes off, dies under a bridge here from God knows what.” The detective said. You stopped at his desk so he could grab two large evidence bags filled with the victim’s belongings and handed them over to you. “This is his stuff. Help yourselves.”

You smiled and mumbled a thank you, watching as he went on his business somewhere else so you and the boys could privately take a look at whatever sort of junk the pharmacist was carrying around. You dumped one of the bag’s contents onto the desk and took one glance to realize most of it wouldn’t be helpful for you. It was nothing more than a bunch of loose change, car keys, his wallet, phone and a pocket sized bible. You grabbed the bible and flipped through the pages with doubt that you were going to find anything useful in here. Dean took his chances with the man’s phone. He scrolled through the text messages and apps on his phone, trying to find anything that might raise a few red flags.

“Anything?” You asked, tossing the bible back down to the table in defeat.

“Nothing weird. Crappy music, a lot of podcasts, all the same.” Dean said. “Reverend Buddy Bolye’s ‘Goin’ for glory hour.’” 

“Cop said he was religious.” Sam noted.

You leaned over to stare at the phone’s tiny screen when Dean pulled up the reverend’s most recent podcast to see if it might be the least bit helpful in trying to figure out what happened. At first glance it seemed like the rest of the stereotypical religious crap people of faith watched. Some overweight middle-aged reverend preached with his open bible with a little too much enthusiasm about what he was saying, all while behind a backdrop that people could only wish was what was waiting for them at the pearly gates.

“Join me in a heapin’ helpin’ of glory, friends. When you’re in the presence of the divine, you’ll know it. And if you let yourself, you’ll hear it.” Dean didn’t seem to be the least bit impressed as you rolled your eyes from the mumbo jumbo the reverend was trying to preach to all of his followers. He fast forwarded to near the end of the podcast, presuming the rest was filled with the same kind of stuff. “So, remember, when angels come a-knocking, let ‘em on in.”

You furrowed your brow slightly from the context of the preacher’s words that might be taken a different way for a faithful person. There was more of a deeper meaning to those words, you knew that for sure. “Angels can’t possess a human without permission, right?” Sam asked. You nodded your head. It seemed angels were starting to get desperate for a warm body to possess if they were using some sort of propaganda to fool humans into saying the magical word. “So, what, they’re using this guy to find vessels?”

“It’s a willing audience. They’re all religious types like our pharmacist here.” You said. “Buddy Boyle was telling them to let the angels take them over.”

“Like body snatchers.” Sam said.

“How big a reach does this Boyle guy have?” Dean asked, wondering what kind of scale of angels might have over people they were able to reach.

Sam pulled up a new browser and typed in the podcast’s name into a search engine, hitting enter and clicking on the second link that popped up. You stepped closer to the computer and examined the map of the world on the reverend’s official home page, your eyes wandering over the many, many red dots on the map. You let out a frustrated sigh from what this meant. He was more than just a local celebrity. The word of the Lord traveled all over the entire world, reaching anyone who has access to the internet. Which was just about everyone these days.

You and the boys shared a quick glance at one another before deciding you saw everything you needed. Sam clicked out of the browser and headed to the exit with you and his brother. Since this lead had done nothing more than wasting your time, you needed to figure out a new one quick.

\+ + +

"Look, for the billionth time, we’re just looking for some information, okay? We’re not cops. I mean, do we look like cops?” Dean tried once again to reassure the four people of many more others weren’t in any sort of trouble. You decided to try your luck and check out the spot where the pharmacist was killed, hopeful that someone might have seen something. However everyone clammed up when you started asking questions. You and the boys had long ditched your fed suits in favor for your regular street clothes. But it wasn’t everyday people like yourselves go poking around in their living space. One of the homeless people nodded his head, mumbling a yes to Dean’s question. “Well, we’re not cops.”

“We just need to find a friend who’s in trouble.” You explained to them the real reason why you were here so they would understand they weren’t going to get busted for trying to survive. “He might have been here the night that guy was killed. Were any of you here then?”

“Maybe.” Your eyes jumped over to a man who came over to join the conversation, probably wondering why a couple of people were asking questions. He seemed hesitant, unsure of your reasons for finding the man were sincere.

“Oh, okay. Uh, he’s got dark hair, blue eyes, a little out of it.” Dean gave a description of the person you were looking for, hopeful it might jog the man’s memory and help point you in the right direction. The man thought about it for a moment, only he was drawing blanks.

“He maybe called himself Clarence?” Sam added. It seemed the name made him remember the face his brother described. The man nodded and smiled slightly, making it seem they had some sort of contact while Cas was here. “You two talk?”

The man shrugged, “Not much.”

“And…?” Dean trailed off, silently hinting for more information he knew the man was withholding.

“I think he was on the run.” The man said.

“You see him with the vic?” Sam asked him. You cleared your throat ever so quietly, making the younger man correct himself from the lingo that sounded awful familiar to what a cop would say. It was the exact image you were trying to steer clear from. “Uh, victim?”

“No.” The man said. You noticed that he was starting to become hesitant about telling you more about what happened to Cas from the more you asked. You gave him a friendly smile in some sort of attempt to put his mind at ease that you weren’t going to hurt Cas. It was the exact opposite of what you were trying to do. “He went off to sleep in another part of the resort.”

The man tried to leave the conversation at that as he walked off. You and the boys followed right after him, not letting him leave so quickly. “Where?” Dean asked.

“He’s not there now.” He said, tossing the garbage bag he was holding into the pickup of some old rusty truck you would be surprised to if it was still able to run.

“Where’d he go?” You pressured him for a straight answer.

“I saw him running from under the bridge to the highway.” He said.

Dean waited a few seconds for the man to add on any sort of details as to the direction of where Cas might have gone. However all he got in return was silence, making him grow annoyed at the game of twenty questions all of you seemed to be playing for a simple response. “You gonna pay us for all this teeth pulling? Where was he headed?”

“He flagged a truck heading north. Detroit, probably.” The man said. You furrowed your brow at the location that sounded a hell of a lot like a guess, but he sounded sure enough of himself that he was right. Truck was marked ‘Motor City Meats.'”

\+ + +

A hunter’s diet wasn’t filled with nutritious meals and five servings of vegetables. You were lucky half the time if you managed to find a piece of fruit that wasn’t all the way rotten when you made a pit stop at the gas station for a quick meal. Since living in the bunker you were able to have more food in the kitchen that wasn’t going to lead you into an early death. There was only so much fast food and microwaveable meals someone could digest over the years. You missed the opportunity of having a home cooked meal that was now more accessible since you had a roof over your head. However you were never going to deny yourself a chance at indulging in your favorite junk food for the road to Michigan for the long drive ahead of you.

You snuck a hand inside the plastic bag Dean was carrying for your food as the three of you headed out of the convenience store and to the quiet streets. You smiled in amusement as Sam took it upon himself to lecture his brother about his unhealthy choice in pie as he read the list of ingredients that weren’t good for a human body. Sam tried his hardest to treat his body well, choosing healthier options when he could. However Dean was a bottomless pit. You had no idea how he still managed to look the way that he did with the diet that he had kept up for all of these years.

“Look at these chemicals.” Sam said, shaking his head. “Do you even read the label?”

“No. I read ‘pie.’” Dean snatched his beloved dessert out of his brother’s hand and shoved it back into the bag for safekeeping to enjoy later tonight. You quietly chuckled at their banter that was never short of amusing in your eyes. “The rest is just ‘blah, blah, blah.’”

“Okay, listen, when we hit Detroit, I say we start with the homeless shelters.” You suggested the next plan of action as you took another bite of your food. You and the boys kept on walking, passing by someone who was using a pay phone on the street. “If that doesn’t lead to anything, then we should hit up the encampments, soup kitchens.”

“Yeah, and I can check for vagrancy arrests.” Sam added another possible way you could track your friend down.

“Yeah, and, you know…” Dean mimicked his head exploding. “odd deaths.”

You crossed the street and headed down a dark alley, casually going about your business as one might think. You weren’t stupid. You knew there was someone following you. The guy who was at the payphone was now several feet behind you, trying to make it seem he was going about his night. You got suspicious when he happened to be going the same direction you and the boys were. You crumbled up the food wrapped and tossed it into the dumpster and reached for the demon knife tucked in the waistband of your jeans. When the man turned down the exact same alley expecting the three of you to be there, he stopped when he noticed there seemed to be nobody around except for himself.

He stood there for a moment as he looked around the alleyway, trying to figure out how three people managed to vanish into thin air. One of the things a hunter learns quickly on was how to figure out if someone was following them. And confront the person who was stupid enough to go after someone like you. The man took a few more steps down the alley, wondering where you might be hiding. While he was thinking to himself was when the boys made their move. They slammed him up against a chained fence, pinning him down with an angel blade pressed against his throat. He realized that he was up three against one. Didn’t matter what he was, there was no way he was getting out of this alive if he didn’t answer a few questions of yours.

\+ + +

Reapers were your least favorite kind of people to deal with. The few times you crossed paths with one trouble always followed. One of you was always fighting to save your life, and then there was that one time where you made a deal with Death himself to get Sam’s soul back from the cage. The poor reaper, Tessa, was stuck with you for twenty-four hours. She wasn’t a particular fan of you from the stunts you pulled that made her job harder. While you bumped into her by pure coincidence, the one who had been trailing you and the boys seeked you out for a particular reason.

You managed to get some information out of him after you went somewhere a little more private. The reaper, who was known as Maurice, flinched in pain when Dean slashes him once again with the angel blade when he wouldn’t properly cooperate with you. His chest was covered in several masks with his wrists cuffed to some exposed pipe, rendering him under your mercy. You learned so far that the angels were asking a favor from the reapers to find a certain someone.

“So, Maurice. You bounty hunters are like Delta Force reapers. Why would they sic you on Cas?”

“He warded himself.” Maurice said.

“Naomi hire you?” Dean questioned the reaper, wondering if the angel you had only met once before was behind all of this.

“You really are out of the loop.” Maurice chuckled at the lack of knowledge either one of you knew. You furrowed your brow slightly, wondering why that was that was so funny to him. “Naomi’s dead. Resting in pieces.”

“So then who’s running things now?” Sam asked. Maurice responded with the silent treatment. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how complicated he was making things for himself.

“Answer!” Dean shouted at the reaper, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Her protégé, Bartholomew.” Maurice responded unwillingly a few seconds later. “He’s an up-and-comer.”

“So he figured we’d lead you to Cas.” You said, connecting the dots on your own. It was a typical tactic trying to get their hands on their least favorite sibling. They must’ve known you would go looking for Cas after he dropped off the map. But they were stupid enough to believe you would eventually catch on. You found yourself circling back to a name Maurice mentioned a few seconds ago. “This Bartholomew, is he the one who’s organizing the angels?”

You raised your brow slightly when the reaper continued to give you the silent treatment, leaving your question unanswered. You gave him a moment before Dean slashed Maurice over the chest once again.

“That’s all I know.” Maurice admitted to you. Dean stepped forward and placed the tip of the blade against the reaper’s throat. The sharpness of the blade caused him to flinch and tilt his chin upwards, forcing him to look the older Winchester in the eye, and for him to realize all of this would be child’s play compared to what you could do to get more information. But he wasn’t scared. “You can kill me. It won’t matter. If I don’t find Castiel, there are others that will. But do what you want.”

Dean decided he would do just that. You weren’t the least bit fazed by the mentions of angels and reapers on your tail, you had something hunting you almost all of the time. You were already expecting the extra competition. You and the boys had a mutual agreement Maurice wouldn’t be much help to you. So it seemed useless to keep him breathing. Dean shoved the angel blade into the reaper’s chest, killing him without a second thought. You might be chased by angels and reapers, and they might be able to track you, but it didn’t mean you were going to give up so easily.

\+ + +

You and the boys spent almost all night driving around town, following every possible lead you could think of with the hopes that Cas might be hiding somewhere safe from harm. All it turned out to be was wasted effort on your part. He was nowhere to be found, making you start to fear for the worst that you might be too late. Dean pulled up into a parking lot and shut off the engine. The sun had risen over an hour ago and you were wasting time. Either Cas was heading somewhere new, or a reaper managed to get their hands on him.

You casually looked out the backseat window and to your outside surroundings, wondering if you might get lucky and find the man wandering around. When you found nothing you turned your gaze straight forward, where you met eye contact with Dean. You furrowed your brow slightly in confusion as to why he was staring at you. “What’s up?”

“We’ve been chasing our tails all night. No Cas. ‘What’s up?’ I’m fried.” Dean said. He was tired of doing things the hard way. There was a potential lead neither one of you had tried yet. Time was running out, and there wasn’t much else Dean could think of to find his best friend. “I think it’s time for plan B.”

“I’m not following.” You mumbled, looking between the boys when you heard Sam let out a sudden sigh of frustration from what his brother was implying. It seemed he managed to catch on, but you were left in the dark.

“I’m letting you know.” Dean spoke his words deliberately slow and meaningful, as if he was trying to tell you something in secret.

“O-okay.” You said. You were officially lost as to what the hell was going on. “Um, letting me know what?”

“I’m letting you know.” Dean was more slower and delberite with his words, as if he was trying to get you to unlock some memory in your head that you were suppressing. Or he was trying to talk to someone who you didn’t know was there.

You kept staring at him like he had grown a second head, that was, until your eyes suddenly flowed a bright blue, your expression changed as you sat up straighter in your seat. Dean managed to get through to the person who he was trying to reach. Ezekiel was now officially behind the wheel. And he didn’t look too pleased about it. “What is it, Dean?”

“We need your help.” Dean said, admitting defeat after brushing off the angel’s offer a few days before.

“That is flattering. We’ve been through this.” Ezekiel said. “I cannot be making public appearances.”

“Oh, I understand that. I’m not asking you to walk the red carpet, Zeke, okay? I need your help finding Cas.” Deans stated the real reason why he was speaking to him in the first place.

“It cannot be done.” The angel said. “He is warded.”

“I know that, but maybe you can use your intergalactic, hyperspace, X-ray eyeballs to find someone else.” Dean said. The way he explained things to the angel got a lack of uncertainty of what he was talking about. “There might be a reaper for rent on his ass. Could you find them?”

“I could try.” Ezekiel said.

Ezekiel shut his eyes and put his concentration on tuning into angel radio to eavesdrop on the chatter among his siblings. The boys anxiously waited for a response that was their only chance at finding Cas. Ezekiel kept to his word, giving a location that wasn’t too far from here. If Dean was fast enough, all of you would be able to get there in record time. When you came back around, it was like no time had passed at all, but you were confused when Dean turned the engine back on and slammed his foot on the gas.

\+ + +

As if by some miracle Dean figured out a potential lead of where you might be able to find Cas. How he managed to do it all on his own was a mystery to you. You tried asking him about how he came to this epiphany on the way there, all questions would have to wait until later was his response. He told you not to worry about it, what you needed to focus on right was getting there before it was too late. You saw what appeared to be an apartment complex just a several minute drive from where you stopped come into your view.

You didn’t waste a second getting out of the car and finding the exact apartment where Dean said your friend was in. Without wasting the effort to knock, he broke down the door with a swift kick of his foot, busting inside with you and his brother following behind. In all of the chaos that had unfolded, you were filled with the slightest bit of relief to see that Cas was alive, despite the condition you found him in. For all of those few seconds you thought things wouldn’t have gone from bad to worse. You didn’t notice the angel blade the reaper was holding in her hand, until you saw her shove it into Cas’ chest. Human or not, you knew that it would have killed him.

It seemed the sight of three hunters against one reaper didn’t scare her. She broke out into a small smile at the extra company before you went for the kill at the sight of her after what she did. You thought you were faster than her, but the fight turned out to be more complicated than you realized it would be. She easily flung the three of you across the room like you were ragdolls at her disposal and amusement from how easy she thought this was going to be.

She made some side remark you didn’t particularly find funny, you lunged at her, trying to stab her like she had done to Cas. Only she retaliated faster, punching you straight in the face and watching as you fell back down to the ground. Your bold attempt at trying to save the day didn’t go to waste, it was enough of a distraction for Dean to grab the blade the reaper had kicked aside. Without thinking twice about it, he stabbed her into the chest with the blade, killing the reaper in a flash of blinding white light.

In the midst of the chaos, Dean dropped the dead body to the ground and looked over to his brother who went over to make sure you were all right before tending to your best friend. Cas was slouched over in a chair, the blade sticking out of his chest. Despite how hard Dean tried finding a pulse, there was nothing. He was about to speak the dreaded words about the demise of Cas, someone decided to lend a helping hand one more time. Ezekiel might not be strong as he was before the fall, he was slowly getting there. And he was well enough to heal his fellow back to life. Despite the questions that surely were going to be raised later, the boys didn’t care at the moment. Cas was back, and he was safe. That’s all that mattered.

\+ + +

“You know, you never answered my question.” You followed behind the older Winchester with a heavy book from the library you had been reading before you saw him arrive back from a run into town to get some fast food for dinner after arriving home a few hours ago. You tried to strike up yet another conversation with Dean about his sudden lead when you were for sure at a dead end, he brushed it off when you out of the woman’s apartment with Cas safe. He changed the subject to how he wanted to get back home before it was too late. Now that you were in the bunker, you were still curious. “How did you know where to find Cas?”

“I told you.” Dean said with a mouth full of burrietto. You grimaced at his ill manners and set the book down on the table in the war room where the both of you ended up. “I went through Maurice’s pockets. I found an address and took a shot.”

You furrowed your brow slightly as you thought back to earlier today, wondering why you couldn’t recollect back to a memory of him doing that. You swore you would have remembered Dean doing such a thing. He would have lead with that first, and not spend all night chasing your tail. “I never saw you go through Maurice’s pockets.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t see half the nerdy stuff that you and Sammy do. It doesn’t mean that you don’t do nerdy stuff.” Dean said. You quietly scoffed at his response, knowing it was his way of dropping it. You didn’t focus on it for too long. Cas was okay, and that was all that mattered to you.

“I am really enjoying this place.” You and Dean turned your gaze over to the man you had been thinking about just a few second ago. A smile crept at the edges of your lips to see Cas was cleaned up and in some clean clothes the boys had lying around. Sam had given him a better tour of the place and gave him a room that he would be staying in for the duration of his stay. “Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn’t there?”

“It ain’t all just burritos and strippers, my friend.” Dean said. He took a seat on the edge of the table and took an oversized bite of his food, his analogy made you quietly chuckle to yourself.

“I understand what you’re saying.” Cas said. You raised your brow slightly, Sam seemed a bit surprised himself to see the man was starting to catch on to things after being human for only a short time. “Yes, there’s more to humanity than survival. You…look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or dispair. Or hedonism, for that matter.”

“Where does hedonism come into this?” Dean asked the man.

“Well, my time with April was very educational.” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Sam shrugged at his friend’s way of thinking, presuming his reasons were from a far different standpoint than either one of you would have guessed what Cas really meant. “I would think that getting killed is something.”

Sam chuckled as you took a step back to take a seat on the edge of the table next to Dean. Cas understood the point the younger Winchester was making, however he was thinking of a something vasity different. “And having sex.”

You felt yourself stumbling slightly as you felt a chuckle of disbelief escaping your throat at the words that just came out of the man’s mouth. Dean choked on the bite of burrito he made the mistake of trying to swallow. When you realized that Cas still hadn’t learned what sarcasm was, your smile slowly faded when you figured out he was telling the truth.

“You had sex with April?” Dean sounded surprised as you were, asking to make sure what he just heard was correct.

“Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in.” Sam clarified for his brother.

“Oh, Cas. Please don’t tell me you lost your virginity to a reaper.” You slowly shook your head, not sure if you should laugh or sigh from the poor man’s luck. Cas stared blankly at you, unsure of how to respond to your disappointed tone. You were more shocked than anything. “Did you at least have protection?”

“I had my angel blade.” Cas reassured you. You bit your bottom lip and raised your brow, a heavy fell from your mouth. You wanted to tell him that wasn’t the kind of protection you were talking about. However you though the only kind of thing April could have given him was the knife to the chest and no other sort of funky diseases.

“Oh—Oh, he had the angel blade.” Dean repeated back his friend’s words in an amused tone of voice, smiling at the innocence he still had after experiencing something that once made him nervous to the very core.

“Yeah, you and I are having a little chat later.” You told him, pointing a finger at the man.

“In any event, I do now see how difficult life can be and how you three have led it.” Cas said. “And I think you’ll be great teachers.”

You felt a smile tug at the ends of your lips from the new journey you were going to have with him. You had many different forms of Castiel over the years; an angel with a one-track mind, an angel with no wings, and for a short while he was his normal self, grace and all. Now he was facing one of the hardest versions of himself today, being a human. No matter what kind of Cas you were going to get, he was still your family. You had a feeling it was going to be fun teaching him the ways of the world. You and the boys had enough life experience together to give him a crash course on just about everything a human can endure.

“Thanks, Cas.” You said.

“Are there are more burritos?” Cas asked when he felt his stomach start to growl.

Dean pointed to the library where he left them and the drinks he made sure to grab for tonight’s dinner. You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled when you saw Cas go on his merry way to enjoy himself for the very first meal as a human being that wasn’t from picking through garbage for scraps. The older Winchester couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his lips at the bit of information he never would’ve guessed to happen to the angel. You and him once dragged him to a brothel where it ended with all of you getting kicked out after digging up the girl’s deep rooted daddy issues that probably landed her there in the first place.

“Our little Cas.” Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn’t notice how your arms dropped to the side as your shoulders straightened out. “He gave it up to a reaper. That is—”

“Castiel cannot stay here.” The words that came out of your mouth were unexpected, and nothing you would have said. You had fought tooth and nail to get him back. There was no way in hell you were going to kick him to the curb. It wasn’t you who was protesting the stay of a friend, but the angel possessing your body. The boys were a little startled to see that it was Ezekiel speaking. “He will bring the angels down on all of us.”

“No, no, he’s got the enochian tattoo.” Dean reminded the angel about the precautionary steps Cas had taken to stop that from happening. “He’s warded.”

“He was warded when April found him, and she killed him.” Ezekiel brought up the memory he knew the brothers remembered vividly from earlier this morning.

“Yes, and you brought him back, and I thank you for that, but this is Cas,” Sam was the one who spoke up before his brother could in some kind of attempt to talk some sense into the angel before he could protest anymore to the man staying here. “Okay, who vouched for you when we didn’t know you from Jack. The bunker is safe.”

“Bartholomew is massing a force. We cannot stand in incursion. Castiel is in danger, and if he is in danger,” Ezekiel took a few steps towards the men, speaking in terms that he knew would make them realize how dire the situation was for everyone. “I am in danger.”

“You’re in danger?” Dean furrowed his brow slightly from the new bit of information that he wasn’t the least bit happy to be learning about right now. “From who, the angels?”

Ezekiel didn’t answer the man’s question. He adverted his gaze over to the man who was sitting at the table in the library, blissfully unaware of the conversation that was going on about him. “If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave.”

“No, you can’t do that. You promised.” Sam protested. “Y/N’s not well enough. If you leave her body…”

“I know. I am sorry.” Ezekiel apologized for how things needed to be for the safety of not only himself, but for the person he was caring for. It left the Winchesters in a tough spot of what the right thing to do was. A few seconds of shared eye contact between the boys, Dean let out a heavy sigh, deciding to be the one who broke the news to his best friend.

Sam tried wracking his brain for some kind of alternative for this situation to end up better than seeing Cas be thrown back out into the streets all by himself. But, at the same time, he couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing you perish after all of this time. You were slowly on the mend. Cas was strong. He would understand. The both of you would eventually. However he still found himself standing there with a defeated look on his face, the sight of him was what you were greeted with when you came back around once more, no clue as to what just unfolded. Another memory in your mind gone. You were blissfully unaware.

Your smile slowly fell from your lips at the sight of Sam. You furrowed your brow slightly as looked over to the library where you noticed Dean was carrying on a conversation with Cas. You turned your gaze back to the younger man, curious at the sudden shift in mood for no apparent reason. “What’s with the glum look on your face, Sasquatch?”


	4. Slumber Party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats nervously at the serious gap between updates*
> 
> Warning: Mentions of past miscarriage, a little bit of angst if you squint near the end of the episode.

Like any other day when you weren’t working on a case, you sat in the war room with your laptop wide open and several files you grabbed from the archives spread around you. For the past hour you had been diligently working on a project while Dean left early this morning on a trip with Kevin. It had been just you and Sam in the bunker ever since, however you noticed he disappeared a few minutes ago without a verbal reason. You didn’t think much of it before going back to your work, reading up on a file that you thought might have been the thing you were looking for. Before you could get a definite answer, you found your gaze lifting up from the paper and to what was in front of you after you heard approaching footsteps.

You raised your brow slightly in curiosity at what you saw the younger Winchester holding. It was a piece of blank paper and a black crayon. What he could have possibly needed it for, how or he even got a crayon in the first place, made you chuckle to yourself in amusement and catch the man’s attention. Sam stopped at the table and gave you a slightly confused expression as to what was so funny to you. 

“Are you off to draw me a pretty picture, Sammy?” You cracked a joke with the man. He lifted up the hand that was holding the black crayon in one hand, the blank paper in the other when he figured out that’s what you were focusing on. “What’s with the arts and crafts?”

“I’m gonna go talk to Crowley. See if he’s willing to give us anymore names.” Sam said. It sounded good in theory, but the younger man’s plan made you lean back in the rolling seat and give him a hesitant look. “And obviously it’d be stupid to give him something that he could hurt us with, so…I improvised." 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” You wondered. “I mean, the only reason why Crowley gave us names in the first place was because Kevin beat the crap out of him. That’s the equivalent of getting off to a demon like him.” 

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll throw us a bone.” Sam said. He could see the confliction in your initial plan of how you wanted things to go. You wanted to let the demon sit in his own personal thoughts in the dungeon for long as you could, using what he had confessed back at the church to your own advantage. You wanted to push him to the point where he was almost desperate for any kind of interaction he would sing off every name he had up in that up in that brain. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? He gives us some side remarks?”

You quietly tapped your pen against the notepad you had next to you and bit your bottom lip. After a few seconds of deliberating you dropped your pen down to the table. Sam was right. There wasn’t much you had to lose. The both of you headed down to the dungeon where Crowley had been sitting down by his lonesome for the past several days in complete darkness. Sam moved the shelves that were the makeshift doors to the secret room, the demon was blinded by the lights you turned on to see your way around without stumbling. You made your way inside first, greeting the demon with a smile as his eyes adjusted to the brightness he wasn’t used to seeing.

"Hello, Kitten. Moose.” Crowley welcomed you with the usual nicknames. Sam walked over to the table you provided for him and set the piece of paper and crayon down. The demon stared at the materials for a moment before back up to you. An amused look crossed his face at what you were asking from him. “You want more demon names.” He suspected the reason why you were here in the first place after days of abandonment. The demon reached over and grabbed the piece of paper, only to crumple it up into a ball. “I want a room with a view." 

You and Sam exchanged a glance from the demon’s demands you were expecting to hear at some point. Crowley thought you were desperate enough to give into any sort of his personal whims, or you were going to entertain a conversation with him. You felt a smirk spread to the ends of your lips, Sam chuckled in amusement. You followed behind the younger man when he began to make his way out, showing Crowley what you were going to do until he cooperated. You hoped something like solitary confinement would work on someone like Crowley, who found torture and threats nothing but something to do on a Friday night. So, you were going to do the opposite to him. No human contact. No entertainment. Nothing.

You didn’t say goodbye to the demon before you made your way to the door and flicked off the lights, engulfing the room into darkness once more. The demon sank down into his seat when he heard the door slam shut, leaving him alone once more for who knows how long. 

You and Sam went back to work for a little while after giving Crowley some time to think about his limited options that he had left to participate. Sam sat across from you as he skimmed through some files you found in the archives you hoped might have been helpful for the project you had been working on all morning. The sight was no surprise to see when Dean arrived back from his trip. You looked up to see your boyfriend standing on top of the staircase after announcing his safe arrival back from the squeaky hinges of the metal door. 

"Hey.” Sam greeted his brother, looking up from the case file after finishing up a sentence he was reading. “How’d it go with Kevin?”

Dean let out a sigh from the strange car ride he endured on his way to Missouri. “Oh, that little nerd is in a lovely warded motel room in Branson. He’s got about forty-eight hours of pay-per-porn and Kenny Rogers ahead of him.”

“How’s he feeling?” You asked, curious to see how the kid was handling himself after being granted a much needed vacation a few states away from his problems. 

“Well, he stared at the angel tablet and repeated the word ‘falafel’ for the entire ride. Kid’s cracked. I’m hoping this break will clear his head.” Dean gave a small update on the prophet, making you start to worry about his dwindling mental state. Ever since you heard about his attempt at flying the coop you had been trying to keep an extra eye on him. Everyone was on high alert. You were stressed out of your mind, and it seemed Dean could sense all of you needed to pump the breaks. “You know, after everything that happened, I figured we could use a little break ourselves." 

"Really?” You asked, the tone of your voice shifting into pleasant sounding from what he was suggesting. “What were you thinking?”

“I picked you two up season one of 'Game of Thrones.’” Dean opened up the plastic bag from a store he stopped by on his way home and read off the title of the DVD he bought. “Figured we’d get a little takeout." 

"All right. Before we embark on a ten episode binge,” You changed the subject to the project you had been working on during his absence away. “I think Sam and I might have found a way to help Cas." 

Dean glanced up from the details he was reading about on the back of the DVD and to you, suddenly appearing to be concerned. "Did you talk to him?”

“No. And by the way, I still don’t understand why he left in the first place. I mean, the bunker is the safest place for him.” You said. The reason Cas had given you before bolting still made you scratch your head. He was all for getting himself settled in here, and the next he was out the door without a proper goodbye. None of it made sense to you. “Bartholomew and who knows how many other angels are out there, gunning for him." 

"Hey, look, nobody wants him here more than I do, okay? But he felt like he’d bring trouble down on us, so he had to split.” Dean’s excuse made you look at him with slight disbelief. It sounded phony to you. You had faced plenty of danger in your lifetime and caused trouble with the wrong kinds of people. You could handle some angels, Dean didn’t entertain your opinion for long as he threw his jacket to the table after taking it off. “But if you got a way to help him, I’m all ears.”

“All right. So, Kevin said the table lit up like a Christmas tree when the angels fell, right?” You summarized the details about what happened that night. Dean nodded his head, seeming to be on the same page as you as you continued on with your theory. “So it turns out each light was where a cluster of angels fell. So I’m thinking maybe there’s some way to hot-wire this, make it track angels. That way, we could help Cas steer clear of danger.”

“This was…both of your ideas?” Dean looked between you and his brother, acting as if there was a third person here you were trying to steal the credit from out under them. 

You glanced around the room, your lips stretching into a small smile from how he was acting all of a sudden. “Actually, it was mine. Sam’s been helping me out.” You explained better to him. He looked over to his brother, as if he didn’t believe you. “Do you see anyone else in here, Dean? Sometimes I do come up with good ideas.”

“That wasn’t what I…” Dean stopped talking when he saw you lean back in your seat, wondering exactly what he was going to say. He veered the conversation to where it belonged before he could get any more of his foot into his mouth. “So, how would it work?”

“Oh, no idea. See, at first, we thought the table was the computer, but it’s not. It turns out it’s just part of it. But Y/N found these cables underneath and we followed them.” Sam told his brother the details you and him found extraordinary from the things you were learning about the place. Along with a history lesson on technology dated well over seventy years ago. Sam leaned out of his seat and pointed a finger to a set of red wires that disappeared into an air vent and broke out into a smile. “You’re never gonna believe what we found.”

The three of you headed to a part of the bunker you hadn’t been to before yet. You discovered almost every chance you got. Over the months you had lived here you didn’t have much time to go digging around the place, however you were given the perfect opportunity to discover what you guessed was the electrical room, filled with all sorts of different machines you had no clue did what just yet. The sight for someone like you and Sam put you at awe from the history that was under your nose. All around you was electric panels with the center of the room taken over by a dated machine with too many buttons and red lights you had been trying to figure out what they did.

“Volia.” You gestured an arm to the scenery around you, stepping deeper inside the room with the boys following behind. 

“This is a computer?” Dean asked. He examined the outdated technology for a moment, still not exactly sure what he was looking at. 

“Yeah—or it was in 1951, when it was first installed. Now, here’s the crazy thing. It’s not plugged into anything. I mean, Y/N and I tried to figure it out.” Sam said. You could hear the fascination in his voice, same as how he was when you discovered the room for yourself and showed him. “We have no idea what’s making this thing work." 

Dean walked over to the back of the computer to take a better look at the thing you were working with. He placed his hand out and pressed it against the machine, his brow raised slightly when he felt warmth against his skin. It meant the thing was still working after these years, and even after the map went off. "It’s warm here.”

Dean found what appeared to be a flat screwdriver sitting on a nearby shelf that looked like it would be good enough to help him rip off the back panel and inspect the machine from the inside. He shoved the tool between a small crack and then began to slowly put pressure on the screwdriver, trying to jimmy the piece of metal free. When he noticed how much resistance he was getting, Dean put all of his strength into trying to get the thing to go free. He ended up stumbling back after the panel popped off and dropped to the ground with a noisy bang. He accidentally hit the shelf right behind him, and while the contents slightly shook, nothing fell. Dean pushed himself back up to a standing position, trying to pretend like nothing happened.

“Got it.” He said. 

“Ya think?” You muttered. You crouched down and inspected the inside of the computer you hoped you might be able to understand if you got a peek inside. You quickly realized you had no idea what you were looking at. Sam pulled out a small flashlight from his back pocket to help give all of you a better look at what you were working with. “Huh. This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

“Well, that looks simple.” Dean noted, sarcasm clear in his tone. “Does it come with a manual?”

“Nothing in the archives, and Y/N obviously couldn’t find anything like it online,” Sam said, telling his brother about the bump in the road you had been faced with. The both of you were pretty tech savvy. But even for you this was near impossible to figure out. “Not to mention I’m pretty sure that the Men of Letters doesn’t have I.T. support anymore, either." 

"I think I know somebody who could help us.” Dean said. “Come on." 

You and the boys headed out of the room and flipped off the lights, making your way back to the main area of the bunker to make a call to a friend you hadn’t seen in a few months. However you didn’t realize when Dean stumbled into the shelf there was something hiding back there in a clear glass jar. A pale grey goo that held something sinister for over seventy years. What you unleashed was something almost out of a book. 

\+ + +

A little later into the day was when Charlie Bradbury, your favorite LARPer and tech genius, arrived in Lebanon safely after you gave her a call about the trouble you were facing. And only someone like her could come to your rescue. You didn’t realize she had arrived, distracted by Dean when he surprised you with a cup of coffee after he put a fresh pot on. And exactly the way how you liked it. You smiled in appreciation and mumbled a thank you, sneaking a quick kiss when he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, thinking you had a minute before a certain some made her arrival. 

“Hey. Get a room you two.” The both of you broke away and looked up to see Charlie was here, Sam following behind as they made their way down the stairs. “There’s my favorite lovebirds.”

“And there’s my favorite redhead.” You joked back with her. You placed down your cup to the table and got up from your seat to welcome her, pulling the young woman into a tight hug after Dean greeted her first. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. Sam and I tried figuring it ourselves, but we’re stumped. Dean thought our favorite I.T. tech would be able to come to our rescue." 

"Not a problem.” Charlie gave you a smile of appreciation when you thought of her. You watched as it faded away when she finished her sentence, dropping a bit of bad news you weren’t expecting to hear. “especially since I got fired last week." 

"Hey, what?” Sam was surprised at hearing this. He placed her overnight bag down on the table next to him. “What happened?”

“Turns out the company I work for was outsourcing to child labor, so I took a big Wikileak all over that.” Charlie was a fighter behind the screen. While it wasn’t technically legal, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips after hearing what she had done, adding a playful wink of approval. “And, yeah. It’s cool, though. It’s given me more time to focus on my hobbies…like larping, macrame,” she listed off a few of her favorite things you learned she liked from the first time you formally met her months back. She tried slipping one more in, hoping you and the boys wouldn’t notice. “…And hunting.” 

“Excuse me?” You were taken off guard by hearing what she had been doing in her free time. Part of you wanted to be disappointed at the danger she was putting herself in. Someone like you, who had been doing this for almost a decade, knew the mental toll that took on you after a while after you glossed over the dangers of cutting your life short. But Charlie was here in one piece, and her bubbly self. Dean was alarmed and Sam appeared to be taken back at her step towards the lifestyle.

“Okay. It was a couple of little cases. I took down a teenage vampire and a ghost.” She tried to explain herself while you and Dean stared at her with a scolding expression that reminded her of her parents. You had your brow raised like how her mother used to while Dean stood behind you with his hands on his hips. The disapproval was written all over your face. You wanted better things for her. But you couldn’t deny the temptation of the lifestyle. “Which sounds like a Y.A. novel if you say it out loud." 

"Charlie,” Sam spoke the young woman’s name, breaking her concentration away from your face and over to him. All of you were more concerned at how she was handling herself after getting a taste of danger by herself. “How’d it go?”

“It was, uh…it was intense. But I kind of wish hunting was more…magical, you know?” You let out a heavy sigh as Dean rolled his eyes from the young woman’s perception of how she thought hunting was always going to be. She realized you weren’t amused as you were, causing her smile to fade away and focus on the reason why she was here in the first place. “Nevermind. So, where is this commodore sixty-four of yours?”

All of you headed down to the electrical room where you showed her the piece of machinery she would be working with. You weren’t sure if she was going to be able figure out something like this considering how dated it was. When she caught sight of the computer, Charlie’s face lit up like a kid in a candy store, she rushed over to inspect the beauty for herself. You and the boys watched as she took a minute to inspect what she could to get a better understanding of what you were about to ask of her. She crouched down to the ground to inspect the inner workings as you leaned over every so often when you heard her mumble something underneath her breath. ‘

“Sweet Ada Lovelace. This thing belongs in a museum. I mean, it’s got encryption software. It seems to be powered by something magical.” Charlie listed off a few of the things she figured out on her own after taking a peek around at the inner workings. Dean was fascinated as much as he could, but he pushed her along to the end, wanting to know what it really did. “It’s kind of an alarm system. Global badness? It freaks. This computer is what locked this place down.”

“Can we use it to track angels?” Sam asked.

You knew what you were asking from her was a lot from such dated technology. Charlie thought about the task for a second or two before she decided the challenge was something she was up to. She cracked her knuckles and grew a smirk. “All right. Let me see what I can do.”

Charlie worked her magic and figured out a system that would work. You and the boys watched as she tinkered with the insides for a little while and pulled out some wires and pulled in a few cords into an outlet. Soon enough she grabbed her tablet and began to tap the screen, finishing the final task. “All right. It took some doing, but now we can download. This beast has all the Men of Letters files. Time for a little drag-and-drop.” 

“Wow. It’s a start. Thank you. That’s great.” You were very much thankful for the hard work she had put in. While you were grateful, there was something else you and the boys wanted to try and discuss now that you had a minute free. Dean urged you to get the ball rolling when he gently nudged you in the side with his elbow. “So, you’ve been hunting. Alone.” 

“I know. Not a good idea, according to the ‘Supernatural’ books.” Charlie rolled her eyes from her amature moves that she should’ve known better after reading all the series, treating them as if they were a guide. You grimaced at the mention of those things you tried to avoid much as possible.

“You really can’t delete those from the internet?” Sam couldn’t help himself but ask, making you give him a slightly confused look. He seriously thought those things were still underground with no popularity to attract mainstream attention. Everything was digital these days. And so were those books. No matter what, they were going to haunt you forever.

“Not even I can do that.” Charlie said. “Come on.” 

“Where do you even find them?” Dean asked. 

“A top secret place I call Amazon.” You replied back to the man. While your tone of voice was serious, the sarcasm was clear enough for him to give you an amused expression. “Seriously. Get used to it. They’re gonna be in our lives forever.”

“And someone uploaded all the unpublished works.” Charlie added on to the disaster. You let out a frustrated sigh at the mention of the tale that went on farther than the finale where you and Dean died and went to hell. You would have been fine with that. For a moment you thought it might have been Chuck who uploaded his own work, but the culvert who did it was someone close to him. And was the biggest fan of it all. “I thought it was fanfic at first, but it was clearly Edlund’s work. Their screen name was BeckyWinchester176. Ring any bells?”

“None. Uh, nobody’s. Uh, no, there are no bells. Uh…no.” Sam stumbled his way to an answer. You tried your hardest to keep a smile from going when you saw him become flustered at the mention of someone who had been obsessed with him. Dean stared at his brother, slowly shaking his head from his behavior. 

“Ugh, these files are encrypted. This is gonna take a while.” Charlie said. While she was going to be here for longer than intended, she decided to make use of the time by having a little fun. “So, takeout, sleepover, braid each other’s hair?”

Sam suddenly got hit with a plan that everyone would enjoy. “I got an idea.”

\+ + +

There was nothing more you loved than curling up with Dean in bed to enjoy a little bit of TV and enjoying one another’s company. Sam offered up his room for all of you to stream the show, you took a wild guess that it was because the man was afraid to step into his brother’s room to see a wild assortment of leftover food growing new forms of mold. You reassured him you made sure all half-eaten meals were thrown away and everything was kept in a tiddly order. He reminded you that his room was the one with the TV. And your bedroom was a mere disaster of still unopened boxes from your house and clean clothes thrown around in a manner you swore was organized. All of you settled on the offer and enjoyed a few episodes of the TV series you had heard so much about. 

The bowl of popcorn shared between you and Dean had nothing left but kernels after munching through the episodes that kept your attention with its enjoyable plot and characters. You sipped the remaining mouthfuls of your beer as Dean slid his hand from around your waist and reached for the remote to pause the screen after nearing the end of the final episode on the DVD. 

“Wow. That Joffrey’s a dick.” Dean felt the need to declare his hatred for a character you had grown to despise yourself from his childish and downright horrific behavior. You didn’t think you ever had more of an urge to jump through a TV screen and strangle a fictional character more than you had for that blonde headed bastard.

“Oh, you have no idea. Wait until he—” Charlie smiled at the upcoming plot details you and Dean might want to hear about that would happen in the next season. Before she could get a single word out, the young Winchester promptly stopped her from spilling any details.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Spoilers.” Sam warned the redhead. “I haven’t read all the books.”

“You’re gonna read the books?” Dean asked his brother. He didn’t see the point of wasting one’s time reading a fictional version of the same media you could consume in a live action version, no mental imagery required on his part.

You shook your head from the point the older man was missing. Books were not always like the live adaptations. The plot might have been the same from the beginning, but TV versions often strayed from the original material to make their own spin and give the characters new journeys. The reader was able to picture the characters described by how the author saw them and not how the actors were chosen for the role. There was no greater disappointment to a reader when someone chosen turned out to be the opposite of what you spent pages imagining in your head. Not to mention the author was still writing the novels as the show aired. You tried getting yourself into the book until you ultimately failed trying to find interest. You gave the first one to the younger WInchester in hopes he would enjoy them. 

“Yes, Dean. I like to read books—you know, the ones without pictures.” Sam shot back with a sarcastic comeback to strike his brother silent. 

You took it upon yourself to finally relieve the ache in your back that started to creep up on you while you were halfway through the fourth episode. You let out a long, drawn out sigh of relief after you got back up to your feet. “Ooh. I have never loved you for talking to me into getting that memory foam mattress more than I do now.” You said to your boyfriend. The price tag made your eyes widen from how expensive it was. In reality you didn’t spend a single penny. And you slept better than you had in a long while. You rubbed your lower back and stretched slightly to make yourself stop feeling twice your age. “I don’t know how you sleep on that thing Sammy.” 

“You’re not kidding. This bed is about as comfortable as a brick.” Charlie got up from the chair she had been sitting on and switched to the edge of the mattress. She bounced a few times to discover it was painful as it looked. You smiled and leaned against the desk to change up the scenery. Charlie glanced around the room, taking notice of the fifties style attire with not much updated touches to make it personal. “Any plans on moving in anytime soon?”

“I am moved in.” Sam said. “This is just my style.”

“Yeah, this is style. Old man.” You agreed. You took a look around the room yourself to see he didn’t do much to give it the Sam Winchester touch except for cleaning out the several decades of dust. He didn’t even try to put any effort to make it his own. “You would’ve really fit into the fifties aesthetics, Sammy. Fifty shades of brown and endless plaid.”

“Well, I’m sorry I haven’t hung up the ‘Hang in there, kitty’ poster yet, Y/N. Feel free to redecorate.” Sam didn’t like the sarcastic jokes you were saying on his behalf. You rolled your eyes from how he was behaving all of a sudden. “Tell me again how your moving process is going.”

"I’ll get there eventually. At least I’m making some kind of effort to make it mine.” You said. It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes from your half-hearted excuse. “Are you saying our home’s not good enough for the 'Hang in there, kitty’ poster?”

“This isn’t our home.” Sam corrected you. “This is where we work.”

You tightly furrowed your brow from the way he was acting. “What’s the difference?”

You waited for Sam to give you a reason why he didn’t think the bunker was just that, a home. He was the one who helped you persuade Dean into staying here permanently after discovering it for yourself. You thought he would have embraced it with open arms from everything this place had to offer. For once he had a home to call his own. Something that fits him perfectly from the life all of you lead. No one to take it away, no real chance of a monster sneaking in here. You hoped he might have been able to find some sort of comfort here. But it seemed the younger Winchester didn’t feel the same way you and his brother did. To say it came as a surprise would have been an understatement. 

Charlie looked between you and the younger Winchester when the both of you did nothing more than stare at one another for a few seconds. It was as if the two of you were waiting for the other one to say something to keep this conversation-turned argument going. You and Sam remained silent. The redhead didn’t realize she had triggered such a touchy subject. She shifted her gaze and mumbled something underneath her breath, a weak attempt at trying to relieve the brewing awkward tension.

“All right, well, I’m gonna go get us some more beers.” Dean said, getting himself up from the bed and making his way to the door. ”How about that?”

You polished off your beer when Dean shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving the three of you alone. You set the empty bottle down on the desk and quickly spoke up, not wanting the mood in the room to shift into a subject you didn’t want to discuss while your friend was staying here. 

“So, Charlie,” You struck up a conversation you had been meaning to bring up since you heard about the redhead’s solo adventures. “what was that all about how hunting isn’t magical?”

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business? I am down. But…” Charlie trailed off, making you and the younger Winchester share a curious expression to her hesitance about seeing what hunting was really all about. “I was raised on Tolkien, man. I mean, where is all of this?” She held up the DVD she grabbed to make her point about what she had really been searching out there for. “Where are my white walkers and my volcano and magic ring to throw in the damn thing? Where…Where’s my magic quest?”

“Magic, quests…suck. Trust us.” Sam scoffed. You had to agree with the younger man about that point. Both of you dealt with your version of fate and quests. It all mapped out to a miserable ending. “They’re all dead ends.”

Charlie’s shoulders slumped at the possible reality she might have to come to terms with. The few times she had been able to work on a hunt with the three of you had turned out to be sort of fun, minus the physical and emotional trauma she endured. Charlie was searching for a spark that steamed from a childhood daydream of fighting dragons and saving the princess. An urge that didn’t come along in this kind of lifestyle. 

The supernatural and magic might be real like it was in the books she read, but it was vastly different from the fictional counterparts. It was darker. Scarier. Charlie couldn’t help but find the light in every bad situation. You had a feeling she was going to keep looking for her quest. You were a firm believer everyone had a role to play in life. She had yet to find hers. 

\+ + +

The four of you decided to check on the progress of the files Charlie had been downloading to her tablet after giving the progress more than enough time. You made your way down to the control room to see everything was how you left it at first glance. It was when you made your way closer to the outdated machines was when you noticed something was strangely off. You slowed down your pace and looked straight ahead at the strange substance on the wall behind the shelf. You knew for sure it hadn’t been there before. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered under his breath. The boys approached closer to the shelf as you stayed behind near Charlie as she reached for her tablet to check on things. "Sam give me a hand.”

You placed your hands on your hips and watched as the brothers pushed away the shelf out of the way, revealing something you had never seen before. Almost the entire wall was covered in a grayish color cocoon. You were tempted to poke at the substance to see what it felt like in order to figure out what it might be, but your squeamish disgust kept your feet planted where they were. Dean took out a knife from his pocket and slid the blade through the substance, cutting deep enough of a makeshift entrance to discover what might be hiding inside. You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting to find in there. A human arm falling out was not one of them. 

Dean stepped back from the possible danger he was standing next to. You and Sam didn’t waste a second pulling out your guns and pointing it in the direction of where the arm was. The older Winchester waited a moment to see if anything else crawled out. But it seemed you were safe for the time being. Dean opened up the flaps of the makeshift pod wider. A fully grown woman tumbled out and to the ground in doing so. Charlie let out a soft gasp as Dean swiftly grabbed for his weapon if the stranger decided to try and do anything stupid as a way of greeting you all. You slowly made your way forward as Dean leaned down to push the woman on her backside to get a better inspection of her. 

She appeared to be human at first glance. What you found most odd about her was the taste in clothing. They weren’t from this decade, or from this century for that matter. You were a little bit tempted to slightly nudge her with your foot when she remained on the ground with no sudden movement. After a few more seconds she started to come around to consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open as she inhaled a deep breath for the first time in God knows how long. The first question that popped in your mind was who the hell she was. 

You and Charlie did a little digging in the archives to discover the mystery visitor was someone you thought was a fictional character in a movie and book series you remembered fondly from your childhood. You made your way back to the control room with the file in hand to see Dorothy was recuperating from her well over seven decade slumber. She sat on the floor with a blanket Sam had provided for her as he tried to get some sort of information out of her. You dropped the file to the computer and briefed Dean with what you and Charlie learned. You stared down at the sepia toned photograph Dorothy sitting on her motorcycle. She sure wasn’t the Judy Garland version you had pictured in your head when you read the books as a child. 

“Holy crap! The first case invested in this bunker involved Dorthy. She and the witch came into this room, and they never came out.” Charlie read off the details of the file she hadn’t gotten a chance to go through in finer detail. You let out a quiet sigh from how excited she was getting over the hunt you stumbled upon. “This will never stop blowing my mind!”

“Okay, pace yourself, Toto.” You whispered to her.

“Oz is real!” She exclaimed with too much eagerness for your personal liking from the situation you were dealing with. You shook your head from the way she was handling all of this. She nudged you with her arm, trying to get you amped up as she was from the things you were learning. “It’s part of the fairy world.” 

“We have to find her.” Dorothy stated. You knew damn well who she was talking about, the wicked witch. Didn’t explain who put her in the glass bottle and left her on the shelf undisturbed for all these decades. The same bottle Dean must’ve accidentally spilled over when he was trying to take off the back panel of the computer.

“No, we have to talk before anyone does anything, okay?” Sam tried to get the woman to focus on the questions she ignored just moments ago. She remained silent, tugging the blanket closer around her body. “Dorothy?”

“Talk? Typical Men of Letters, standing around, having a nice little chat with your noses buried in your books while your little secretaries take notes.” Dorothy rolled her eyes when she glanced in the direction of you and Charlie, thinking standards for how women were only capable of being nothing more than glorified paper pushers. You scoffed at her presumption that was the farthest thing from the truth. She had a lot to catch up on. 

“We’re hunters.” Dean told the woman. 

“And who are you calling a secretary?” Charlie came to both of your defenses at the sexist title. 

“You’re not secretaries? You’re Women of Letters?” Dorothy looked surprised much as she sounded when she asked a question that felt almost impossible. You nodded your head, only making her become more baffled about her surroundings. “W—How long have I been out?”

“That’s why we need to talk. Look, you’ve been gone for over seventy-five years. Now, according to our file, you came here to kill the wicked witch and then you disappeared.” Sam gave the woman a quick refresher to help jog her memory in hopes it might fill in the gaps of information that the file couldn’t provide. “What happened?”

“We couldn’t find a way to kill her. So I did the only thing that I could.” Dorothy explained to all of you that led her to the demise, and how you found her the way you did. “A binding spell that came at a price—her soul with mine.”

“So you’ve been frozen with the witch for all this time?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Dorothy answered. She pushed off the blanket and got up to her feet, growing frustrated from all the precious time you were wasting on silly questions that weren’t going to lead the search for the witch any faster. “Look, the witch cannot be killed. If I am awake, then so is she.”

“Wait, if she’s here, why didn’t she kill you?” Sam wondered.

“She can’t.” Dorothy explained. 

“You’re protected by the witch of the North’s kiss.” Charlie jumped into the conversation and told you the reason why. She smiled from her knowledge that she had a feeling was going to come in handy. “It was in the books.”

“Oh, forget the books! They’re not important. I’m protected. You aren’t.” Dorothy turned the focus onto an important detail that couldn’t go without saying from the danger all of you were under. ”Now, the witch came here looking for something. I have no idea what it is. But we have to find her before she finds it.” 

“All right, all right. Charlie, dig into the files. See if you can find anything that puts a dent in a witch.” Dean instructed a set of plans to somehow get this situation under wraps. “Sam, Y/N and I will have a look-see. Come on.” 

“I’m helping.” Dorothy declared, clapping her hands together. 

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. But for right now, why don’t you rest up and help the smartest person in the room?” You suggested to the woman. You glanced over in Charlie’s direction to catch the smile that began to creep on her lips from the subtle compliment. The young woman admitted about her longing for magic and all sorts of adventures, you had a feeling Dorothy could provide some during her stay. “Have fun, girls.”

You and the boys searched much of the grounds as you could together. Neither one of you wanted to take a chance at splitting up and going up against the wicked witch alone if you were unlucky enough. You didn’t know how long it had been after she escaped or where she was hiding. You went through several different locations before making your way to the dungeon shortly after, wanting to be sure your other house guest was still locked up tight. The wicked witch and the king of hell teaming up together wasn’t how you wanted to spend your night.

Luckily for you the king of hell was exactly where you had left him earlier today; locked up tight in the chains that secured him from trying to make a foolish escape. But he wasn’t innocent as he looked slumped back in the chair. Crowley was all too causally whistling a familiar tune from a movie you had seen several times in your lifetime enough to recognize the reference. It was the song. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Dorothy sung it before she was swept away to Oz by the tornado. You cautiously looked around to make sure if the wicked witch wasn’t here, and when she wasn’t like how you suspected, you dropped your gun back down to your side. 

“Wow. If it isn’t Dorothy and her pals, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. Your new houseguest—so misunderstood.” Crowley informed you of what you already were about to deduce on your own. He waited a moment for either one of you to get the reference he slipped in, but when he was left hanging, you responded with silence. “Neither one of you saw 'Wicked’?“

"Sorry. I haven’t exactly had the chance to visit Broadway lately. I’ll make sure to get right on that after we wrap all of this up.” You said, rolling your eyes. “What did she say to you?”

“Something along the lines of…” You weren’t sure if the demon was trying to be cheeky with you when he hissed, bearing his teeth and all. 

“All right, well, I’m gonna get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag.” Dean said to the demon, not even the least bit impressed by the childish behavior that meant nothing to you. 

“I know what she’s looking for.” Crowley said. He tried to use his knowledge for leverage to get something out of you. You narrowed your eyes on the demon as he raised his brow, wondering if you were going to play long to hear the answer.

“What does she want?” Sam questioned the demon. 

“I’d be happy to tell you, as soon as I get to stretch my legs.” Crowley gave you a smug smile you wanted to smack off his face. The demon knew he had you backed into a corner, the only thing you could do was give into his petty demands. Or continue chasing your tails.

You let out a frustrated sigh. The boys weren’t too pleased either as to what the demon was asking. But you gave in with a nod of the head. Dean approached Crowley with the key to unlock the chain around the demon’s neck, all while holding the knife to stab him with if he tried anything stupid. Crowley behaved the entire time. He slid off the collar and let it drop to the ground, you and Sam never lowering your weapons as he did so. He let out a groan of relief from being freed for the first time since you forced him down here. 

You gave the demon an impatient look as he took his time enjoying the freedom that wasn’t going to last for too long. He moved around his stiff neck and finally pushed himself up to his feet to stretch his aching legs. Crowley even had the audacity to let out a chuckle and smile at his victorious win.

“All right.” You spoke up, wanting to get the demon back on track to the reason why you were even letting him off his leash. “What does the witch want?”

“Give me a mo.” Crowley said. “I still need to air myself out.”

You pointed your loaded gun at him and shot off a round straight into his chest, showing him you weren’t in the mood to keep playing his little games. “I think you’re out enough." 

“Rude.” The demon muttered, taken back by your hostile behavior.

Crowley inspected the bullet wound in his meat suit and shook his head, you ruined his outfit even farther as well. You were about to warn him where the next bullet would go, the demon compiled before you could get a single word out. He reached for the crumpled piece of paper at the edge of the table and unfolded it to show you a single word written down. You furrowed your brow slightly, not sure what to make of it.

“Key?” Sam read off the word. “What key?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me.” The demon said. He gave you a smile from the corny joke you once again didn’t find the least bit funny. “Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don’t you?”

You had the first potential lead at finding out where the witch was before she could get her hands on this supposed key. You and the boys quickly made your way to the kitchen in some kind of hope that you might be able to catch her, but you were too late. All she left behind was the mess she left trying to find the damn key she was doing everything she could to find. 

The witch tore every inch of the room apart; pots and pans were scattered all over the floor, food you had left out to enjoy later laid spilled on the counters. It looked like a tornado blew in here. You let out a groan of frustration and dropped your arm holding your gun back down to your side. Not only did you have this mess to clean up after you solved this Wizard of Oz, the wicked bitch was still on the loose and most likely tearing apart another room.

"Damn it, I just cleaned in here.” Dean grumbled in frustration.

“Really?” Sam sounded like he was in disbelief at hearing his brother was capable of cleaning up after himself. 

“Surprisingly, yes. He’s become very domestic since we started living here.” You said. You made your way into the kitchen when it was made clear your problem was long gone, but still lingering about and causing more chaos in her path. “Looks like we got a witch problem." 

You took a moment to examine the damage the witch left behind and how long it was going to take for you and the boys to clean up. You were still on high alert, nearly shooting at the person who came into the kitchen from one of the few doorways. You dropped your gun back down when you saw that it was just Charlie and Dorothy back from their own tasks you hoped had been more successful than your dead end. 

“Sorry. We raided your gun range. Made us some poppy bullets.” Charlie explained to all of you. She showed off the revolver and shoved a hand inside her pocket, pulling out the one thing you had against the wicked witch. You raised your brow in curiosity and reached for one to inspect it for yourself. “They won’t kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.” 

Dean examined the bullets for himself Charlie had made on her own. He had to admit she did a good job on figuring out a potential weapon against the witch. She always managed to impress him from how she could handle herself in stressful times. “That’s my girl.” 

“There was only enough for five bullets, so…” Charlie told you the downside about her genius invention. You dealt with worse circumstances as you loaded the bullet into the chamber for the moment you might need to use it. “Make each shot count.” 

“Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell’s she’s looking for.” Dorothy said. 

“She’s looking for a key.” Sam informed the two women. 

“How do you know?” Charlie asked. 

“Little birdie told us.” You said, leaving out the source where you found out on your own. You really didn’t have time, or in the mood, to explain the reason behind having the king of hell chained up in your dungeon. “Ring any bells, Dorothy?”

“Unfortunately. It’s the key to Oz. There are magical ways into Oz—tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool—but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz.” Dorothy explained what made this one in particular so special. And why the witch wanted to get her hands on it so badly. “Insert key, twist, and presto, you’re in Oz.”

“How did the Men of Letters get the key?” Sam asked. 

“I have no idea, but if she finds it, she’ll go back and finish what she started. She’ll destroy all that is good in Oz. She’s got armies of witches, flying monkeys.” Dorothy painted all of you a grim picture of what the future might look if you weren’t faster than she was. “Many will die.” 

"What’s this key look like?” Dean asked her. Dorothy pulled out a small leather bound journal from the inside pocket of her jacket and flipped to a sketch of the key. You furrowed your brow slightly when it looked familiar to you. “I’ve seen that key. Found it when Y/N and I were doing inventory." 

“Where is it now?” Dorothy asked. 

“My room. We got to get that key. Alright, Charlie and I will go look in my room.” Dean formulated a plan before all of you split up to go your separate ways. “Why don’t you guys buy us some time?”

You nodded your head in agreement. You watched as Dorothy and Sam made their way to the more open area of the bunker to get a better chance at finding the witch. You lingered behind for a moment as you called out for the redhead’s attention before she could get too far. Much as you trusted her ability to take care of herself, there was still a part of you that wanted her out of danger. You were dealing with a powerful witch and no real means to stopping her. 

“Safest place in this joint is the dungeon.” You informed her.

“You have a dungeon in this place? Of course you do.” She smiled at the new room she learned about, wondering exactly might be hiding in there when given the chance to explore it one of these days like the rest of this place. 

“So maybe you should…” You hinted around what you were trying to say without coming right out with it. You wanted more than anything to make sure she was safe. But you should have known she wasn’t going to back down from the very thing she admitted to you about stumbling across again. This hunt was her dream come true. 

“I am not hiding, especially in a dungeon. Wicked witch, a key, a quest? Did you not listen to anything I said before?” Charlie was walking on cloud nine from the adventure she stumbled upon. She broke out into a grin and playfully punched the man standing next to you in the shoulder. “Let’s do this, Dean.” 

You shook your head in annoyance as the woman made her way to Dean’s room to find the key, ignoring your last attempt at calling her name. You knew at this point all of your warnings fell upon dea ears. You let out a sigh of defeat and made your way to wherever Dorothy and Sam ended up, Dean quickly catching up with Charlie before she could get herself into too much trouble while snooping around his bedroom.

\+ + +

Charlie shouldn’t have been excited as she was to be given the opportunity to poke around Dean’s belongings while he tried and searched for the same key the wicked witch was looking for. As if today couldn’t get any better it seemed it was. She noticed right away how the older Winchester’s room contrasted his brother’s. Dean made an effort to decorate the space how he liked and made it his own. You added small touches to make it clear you shared the room like any other normal couple; a pile of your folded clothes sitting on the couch, a book you were halfway through reading bookmarked on the nightstand. Yet you gave him the opportunity to call the space his own from the lack of opportunity he had growing up. You and him had no problem making it your home. It was easier when you had memories to help you lay down your roots. 

The redhead found herself smiling when she spotted a few personal photographs leaning against the desk. One was of a blonde woman holding a small child that looked to be no older than four or five, she guessed it was Dean’s mother. A rare moment from his childhood before it turned bitter for the family. The other picture was of the couple from several years ago from the looks of it. She felt her smile grow wider from the way you both looked at each other in the photo, the love you had for one another was clear in your faces. You looked at each other like a couple of kids head over heels. Even after all the tragedy and heartbreak you had to endure over the years, the love you had for one another was still going strong. Maybe it even brought the both closer together. She only wished to find a woman to share the kind of affection and adventure like you both had.

Charlie found herself drawn to a stack of magazines when she caught sight of a beautiful woman wearing little clothing luring her attention when she helped on the search to make things go faster. She quickly realized she had stumbled upon Dean’s personal stash of skin magazines that looked like they dated back into the early fifties. How he managed to get his hands on something like this was a mystery to her. She went through them to see they ranged from over sixty years ago to a little more recently. She chuckled to herself at how the man prioritized. 

“You keep your porn meticulously organized, but not—” Charlie picked up the copy on top of the pile, raising her brow in curiosity to hear the man’s answer. 

“Don’t judge me.” Dean defended himself from the woman’s playful teasing. 

Charlie shook her head and bit back a laugh. She opened up the magazine in the middle, wanting to take a peek at the spread they had back in the day. Charlie found her attention quickly drawn away from the naked woman when she noticed something slipped out and fell down to the ground by her feet. She stepped back and looked down to see it was another photo. She reached down and picked it up, slightly fearful she might find a picture of you in a compromising position for the older man’s enjoyment, only it was worse than she could ever imagine. 

Dean was the one who called her to let her know about the technical problem you and the boys were facing that left all of you scratching your heads. It’d been a few months since the last time you got in contact with her and the things you had been up to since last speaking. She asked how all of you were doing and excitedly wanted an update about the baby, you were almost due in a few months. The way the other end fell eerily silent made Charlie’s heart drop into her stomach. She was familiar with the pause between words before giving bad news. 

“Y/N, she…she lost the baby, Charlie.” This wasn’t how he wanted to find out. She could hear the pain in his voice, how it cracked from retelling of the news to one of his only friends. His words had come true. What the young woman found odd was the request he had given to her prior to her arrival. “Please don’t mention it to her. We don’t like to talk about it.” 

It had been over a month. People eventually move on from these things. You didn’t mention it when you saw her. You didn’t even seem sad. You acted like you had forgotten all about what happened. A blissful ignorance, or you had the best mask at hiding your grief. Not that Charlie was expecting for you to pull her to the side and explained what happened. It wasn’t her right to know the details. She couldn’t comprehend the trauma you were going through. 

Losing a parent was an inevitable part of life every child would go through, no matter the age they lose them. But to lose a child before they were able to take in their first breath? It ruins people with a sort of pain Charlie hoped she never would have to understand. She remembered how excited you were for the baby. How it slipped off the tongue when you first met her, the way you looked at Dean when the both of you talked about your future plans of getting married. 

Charlie regretted the gifts she had given you, the tiny outfit and the book. They would be nothing more than a constant reminder of a life that was no longer. You might have said your goodbyes and found inner peace with the situation, but Charlie still felt the need to give you her grievances. She wanted to wrap you into a tight hug and be reminded you weren’t alone in these troubling times. But Dean had made it quite clear he wanted the situation under wraps.

“How are you holding up?” Dean momentarily stopped searching from the odd question that came out of nowhere. Charlie held the ultrasound picture for a few seconds longer before tucking it back into the magazine from where she stumbled upon it by accident. “I know you said you didn’t want me to talk about it, but I gotta know. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re hanging in there.” He admitted to her. “It’s been a little while now.”

Charlie should have understood from the man’s short answer and behavior that he wanted to be done with this conversation. It wasn’t the right time to be discussing the past when you had a wicked witch running around the bunker as well, looking for a magical key that opened the door to Oz. She was more excited than anyone to have another hunt filled with magic, it was the very thing she had been searching for since she started hunting on her own. But she couldn’t help herself when her mind drifted away from the hunt and to the news that had been lingering in the back of her mind since the phone call. 

“Still, to lose a baby the way she did…” Charlie had a habit of pressing further into a conversation, despite given the social and audio cues someone wanted to drop the topic. Your behavior rubbed her the wrong way for some reason. You were so excited, over the moon in fact. “Are you sure she’s okay—”

“I told you Charlie, she’s fine. You know how Y/N gets with the kinds of things. We said our goodbyes, came to terms with the things that happened. We moved on from it. And so should you.” Dean hadn’t realized the tone he used on the woman until he saw her expression change dramatically. He didn’t mean to lash out at her. Weeks of anger came boiling to the surface without a second thought. And she was the victim. A caring friend who just wanted to give her condolences, all she ended up doing was making him feel worse. “I..I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Charlie muttered. She shook her head and went back to searching, pretending like everything was fine once more. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Dean let out a quiet sigh of frustration from his short temper before going back to his search, digging through a few more artifacts until he found a small box that looked familiar. He opened it up to find the exact key he’d been looking for over the past few minutes. His lips stretch into a victorious smile. “Ah!” He quietly shouted to himself. “Yahtzee.” 

Charlie looked up to see her friend discover the key. She shared a matching smile, enjoying the moment, all before it was ruined a few seconds later by an unexpected guest. Neither one of them noticed a puff of emerald green smoke sneak its way into the bedroom from the air vent and transform into the very person they were hunting. Charlie’s eyes moved away for a split second when she noticed something out from the corner of her eye. A gasp of surprise escaped from her throat at the sight of the wicked witch standing behind Dean, giving her no chance to properly warn him from what was about to happen.

Dean quickly turned around and spotted the witch, but he had no time to properly defend himself. The witch snatched the key from his grip, using her unexpected drop-in to her advantage of the situation. She easily flung him across the room with enough force to make Dean bounce off the bed and stumble to the corner of the room, knocking his head roughly against the concrete wall. Charlie had no time at all to properly defend herself. She saw the gun lying on the bed and dived forward to get it, but the witch was faster, hitting the young woman with some kind of spell that would be her demise. All Dean saw when he got his head back on straight was Charlie falling to the ground, a piece of furniture doing nothing to break her fall. 

The witch let out a scream of pain when she felt another poppy bullet aim into her chest. Dean stood behind the loaded gun after firing off his only road into the witch in some kind of way to stop her. It wounded her like how Charlie said, but it was not enough to stop her. He watched as the witch disappeared the way she came, and with exactly they were trying to keep from her. Dean couldn’t focus on the trouble he landed them all in. His eyes wandered to the body lying on the ground, not moving. Not…breathing. 

Dean crouched down to the ground so he was at level with Charlie. He softly spoke the woman’s name as he pushed her so her body was now lying on her backside, hoping he might be able to see her breathe, or her eyes moved underneath her lids. Anything to show him that she was still alive. He waited a few seconds. He watched her chest to see if it would move. But she remained on the ground, lifeless. Dean shook her body, and when that didn’t work, he cradled her head into his hands. No amount of times he kept repeating the woman’s name roused her back into consciousness. Dean felt his breathing come out into shorter ones from everything that was happening. 

The older Winchester picked up Charlie from the ground and carried her over to his bed, trying to get her more comfortable. He kept repeating her name over and over again, despite her only response being deafening silence. Dean gently moved a few strands of red hair out of her face, feeling no hot breath tickle his skin like how he hoped. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t lose another person so soon. Not now, not like this. Charlie deserved so much better…He needed to find a way to fix this. 

“Dean?”

Your voice echoed from out the bunker’s hall, making a blossoming sense of hope fill into Dean’s chest. He knew there was someone else in your body that could help bring Charlie back to life. The name that wasn’t your own slipped off his tongue before he realized the consequences that might be waiting for him down the road. All he cared about in the moment was bringing his best friend back to where she belonged.

“Zeke!” Dean called out the angel’s name when you stepped into the bedroom, checking out the room to make sure it was safe. You immediately dropped your gun down to your side as your eyes flashed blue, the angel in your body coming to the driver’s side. Your body stood in the doorway and stared at the dead body lying on Dean’s bed. Dean appeared to be desperate, fearful for the young woman’s life that was no longer. “You have to help her.”

Ezekial approached the edge of the bed, inspecting the woman for a moment to inspect the damage inflicted upon her. The angel knew from the sight of her that she was no longer. “She’s gone.”

“No. You can bring her back like you did with Cas.” Dean told the angel, his tone of voice making it clear it was more of a request than anything. The older Winchester was desperate, asking for a favor from the angel after someone close to him got hurt. It was starting to be a habit Ezekial wasn’t happy with.

“I cannot keep doing this.” Ezekiel warned the hunter.

“Why the hell not?!” Dean questioned the angel, his tone bleeding with frustration at the hesitation of the angel’s willingness to help like how he had before.

“I am barely back to half strength, Dean. Every time I use my power, it weakens me, which means I will have to stay longer in Y/N, longer than you want—longer than we both want.” Ezekial informed the older Winchester about his unwillingness to do what was asked of him. Dean was left at a crossroads of the choice he was to make. “The witch running around your bunker is very powerful. I can help with the witch or save your friend.”

Dean fell silent for a moment about what the right thing to do was in this situation. He took into consideration the sort of complications he’d been facing since you were possessed by Ezekial, and how your reaction would be upon hearing the death of Charlie. A woman you had doted over since you first met her. Dean swallowed and looked down at the young woman lying on the bed. He made his decision. It might not have been the right one, but he didn’t care. He was doing it for his family. 

“Save her.” Dean instructed. 

Ezekial nodded his head, “As you wish.” 

The angel made his way over to Charlie and kneeled down on the ground so it would be easier for what he was about to do. He pressed two fingers to her forehead and shut his eyes, slowly healing the young woman from her internal wounds that lead to her demise. The wounds were far worse than the ones Cas had been endured with. Dean watched with fearful eyes as your expression changed into an almost pained out as a grunt slipped out from your mouth at the amount of power Ezekiel had to use in order to properly heal Charlie. A few more seconds before it was complete. Charlie shot up in bed with a sudden gasp of air as you stumbled back, landing roughly into the dresser that was behind you. 

“Merry Christmas!” Charlie groggily spoke her first set of words after coming back to life. She looked around the room in a daze, not sure what was going on, or how he managed to get on the bed from the floor. Dean rushed to the young woman’s side and softly spoke her name, wanting to make sure everything was okay. “Hey, I know you.” 

“I told you to stay in the dungeon.” Dean told the young woman of his previous warning. He felt himself suddenly be filled with a rush of relief at the weak chuckle that escaped her throat. 

“Bet you say that to all the girls.” She mumbled a joke, making him smile at how she was able to joke even after coming back to life without even knowing it. 

“Dean?” Your voice broke the older Winchester’s concentration from Charlie, making his eyes wander over to you to see that you were coming back around as well. Both of you not having a single clue of the events that took place just a minute ago. “What the hell just happened?”

“The witch—the witch was about to put a whammy on me, and, uh, Charle jumped in front.” Dean explained the situation to you, the lie slipping off of his tongue without a second thought. He gave the young woman a proudful smile at her heroic move. "She got zapped, and then the witch got the drop on you.”

“Okay. This has been happening to me way too much.” You muttered to yourself at your clumsy behavior. You rubbed the back of your head from the rush of pain you felt from getting back up to your feet. You have been off your game for weeks now since the trials. It wasn’t like you to be so lousy. Despite your rusty hunting skills all of you were somehow still in one piece. “Then why aren’t we dead?”

“That’s a good question.” Dean agreed with you, shrugging his shoulders. He quickly thought of an excuse that might help fill in the gaps and keep you from growing suspicious. “I clipped her with a poppy bullet. She got the key. I think she’s gone.” 

“No, she’s wounded.” Dorothy came out of nowhere to correct the man with some good news. She rushed down the hall and stopped in the doorway with Sam catching up to the woman a few seconds later. “We should still have some time. She could still be in the air vents.”

“No. No, no. She’s right. We—we have to—we—” Charlie foolishly thought she was capable of swinging her legs off the bed and standing up without a problem. Dean managed to stop the woman from crashing to the floor when her body involentarly tipped forward. 

“Just go.” Dorothy told you and the boys. “We’ll catch up.” 

“My gun’s over there.” Charlie pointed over to the desk you were standing next to you. You saw it was exactly where she was, lying on top of boxes that were stacked on one another. “There’s one bullet in it.” 

You warned the two women to be careful and made your way out into the hall with the boys, handing the gun over to Dean so he could have another round to defend himself if all of you came into contact with the witch again. The three of you cautiously made your way through the bunker, peeking down every hall and looking over your shoulder to make sure the witch didn’t get the drop on you again. The next time you came in contact with her you wouldn’t be as lucky. 

The mystery to how you were even still breathing after your first run in with her, along with the events that landed you with a dull ache in the back of your head was starting to make you feel frustrated. You remembered making your way into Dean’s room and then waking up on the floor, everything in between was blank. It was happening to you frequently. And it was more than just a few minutes at a time on hunts. Bits and pieces from months were gone. Sometimes you tried to think about the trials, but you couldn’t remember. You wondered if your mind repressed them in some sort of attempt to protect yourself from dealing with the pain you endured. But now that it was happening more frequently…you were hearing things, it was starting to make you worried.

“Who’s Zeke?” You knew it wasn’t the proper time to drop a question on Dean when you turned a corner and followed behind the older man as his brother led. He gave you a confused look at the name you thought he might have never heard before. You swore you heard it. “When I came into your room, before I got zapped,” You pointed your gun at an empty room when you passed by another one, only to move on to the next. “I thought you said the name Zeke. Who’s that?”

“Um…” Dean mentally cursed at himself for the dilemma he found himself in. Sam turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his brother, wondering what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into this time. And what excuse he was going to use in order to keep from the situation escalating. “I think you’re still a little punchy, sweetheart. You and Sammy head for the front. I’ll meet you two in the library." 

You were disappointed from the answer you were given by Dean. You expected his response to be drastically different from what you were given…

You thought to yourself. Maybe he was right. You had been out of it for the past few weeks. You had been so stranger to the sort of tricks your mind was able to play on you. You let out a quiet sigh and followed behind the young man as you made your way to the front entry of the bunker in some kind of hope you might be able to find the witch before it was too late. 

You and Sam made your way into the war room and cautiously looked around to make sure the coast was clear once more. The only people that were around so far were just the two of you. You lowered your gun slightly and looked over at the younger Winchester, remembering the conversation you had overheard when you were catching up with them after splitting up from Charlie and Dean. The both of them were discussing homes, and the lack of importance it was to them. A strange subject for the both of them to bond over. You still didn’t understand why Sam was still hesitant about letting himself feel comfortable enough to call the bunker his home. You knew he had a rough childhood of sleeping in the backseat of the Impala and strange motel rooms. But this was good as it was going to get for the both of you. Hell, it was better than either one of you could have hoped to call home for your family. 

“Why haven’t you moved in?” You understood your question was poorly timed when you spoke it out loud, bringing up a conversation the younger Winchester really didn’t feel like discussing right now 

“Is now really the time for this, Y/N?” Sam’s tone made sure to reflect his annoyance at your conversation topic you butted heads over just a few hours ago.

“Well, I’m just asking.” You muttered in your defense. 

“Look, I never had what you had with your family, okay? Or Dean for that matter.” Sam decided the truth was the most important answer to lead with. You stopped in your tracks and gave him a confused look at his response. “I don’t have any memories of home. And whenever I’ve tried to make a home of my own, it really hasn’t ended well.” 

“Yeah, but a lifetime of abandoned buildings and crappy motel rooms. Not to mention living in a house all by your lonesome wasn’t exactly paradise on my part. I mean,” You let out a sigh and looked around at the bunker with all of its glory that you felt it offered. “This is about as close to home we’re gonna get as a family, and it’s ours. Why can’t you make this place yours?”

Sam found himself overwhelmed with the need to give you a reason why. He wanted to tell you the truth about how he tried to make the bunker a home, and for a little while it did. He psyched himself up with the reality of dealing with another human to the bunch. A small baby that would fill the quiet bunker halls with their cries and laughter. Make you and Dean panic when they got to the age where they started crawling, leading you to find out the dangerous things they could get their hands on in the bunker. You even picked out a room for that baby, expecting to have the chance around this time to take out all the old furniture to make it a nursery. Sam was honestly excited for the things that were to come that would make it truly feel like home. But all he felt now when he passed by that room was pain. 

“I tried, okay?” Sam managed to speak out three words that might help you understand. Only it caused you to look at him with even more confusion. The look you gave him was clear; you wanted to know why. What was the reason that he couldn’t call the bunker home? He hated himself for lying to you. He hated how easy it was. “I tried for months. But I can’t force myself into believing something that doesn’t feel right.” 

“I’m gonna go check on your brother, see what’s taking him so long.” You said. You took a few steps backwards, trying to hide your disappointment in hearing what you thought was the truth. It was the tip of the iceberg for the reason Sam was giving you. But you didn’t know that. “Holler if you see the witch. I’ll be back.” 

Sam let out a frustrated sigh from the conversation veered into a direction he hoped wouldn’t have gone in. He should’ve known better than to think you might leave a conversational topic alone without being given the full reason. It was enough to drop it once and for all.

You retraced the steps you thought Dean might have taken, wondering what was taking him so long to catch up with the both of you. You kept thinking about Sam’s reasoning for not thinking the bunker of home as you had hoped. He pressured Dean to stay here permanently. He was over the moon to discover what this place had to offer. You guessed he couldn’t miss something he never really had. It broke your heart. You could only wish that one day Sam might be able to change his mind and find a reason to call this place his own.

When you ended back up where you split up with Dean without finding a trace of the man, you gave up on the search, deciding instead to make it back to the library where you agreed upon to meet up. You found it odd as you made your way back that you hadn’t found a trace of the witch anywhere around here. Most likely she was around here, trying to open up the door to Oz. But not without taking care of you. 

You found yourself stopping in your tracks when you stumbled upon a sight of your worst fear in the war room. The witch had found the boys. She had an arm wrapped around Sam’s neck and a finger pressed against Dean’s forehead, doing something to the both of them that didn’t kill them. But put them under her spell. You mumbled a curse word underneath your breath before you booked it out of there, needing to find Dorothy and Charlie before it was too late. 

You looked everywhere for the two women; Dean’s bedroom, Sam’s, yours. Anywhere that was close by. You managed to send off a text to Charlie in some kind of hope that she would respond as you raced around the bunker, trying to dodge the witch and the two men under her spell. You didn’t know what she had done to them, and you really didn’t want to find out. Luckily the red head answered your text, leading you to somewhere you didn’t expect to go, a little secret you had kept to yourself since discovering it—the garage.

"Y/N!” Charlie shouted your name with excitement when she spotted you running up the stairs, and out of breath for that matter. “You didn’t tell me this place had a garage!”

“Sorry. Slipped my mind. We sort of have more pressing matters.“ You didn’t mean the sarcasm that slipped off your tongue. You made your way to the women when Dorothy was busy rummaging around her motorcycle, looking for something. You furrowed your brows when you saw her pull out what appeared to be a severed mechanical head. “Is that..”

“Yeah. He didn’t make it out.” Dorothy said, hinting of the poor Tin Man’s demise. You watched as she frantically searched through her bag until she pulled out exactly what she was looking for. A pair of ruby red slippers. “Yes!”

“I don’t believe it.” Charlie laughed at the sight of the famous shoes. “Did you really walk down a brick road in these?”

“No. I never actually wore them. Seemed kind of tacy wearing a dead woman’s shoes.” Dorothy said. “Plus, I’m no good in heels, you know?”

“I don’t suppose we could pop those on and wish the witch away?” You wondered. 

“Sorry. Another thing the books got wrong.” Dorothy said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from how these sorts of things could never be easy as you wanted. “But, like the poppies, these have magic from Oz—sharp magic.”

“Death by shoe? Huh.” You examined the shoes both of the women were holding, the very thing that was going to kill the wicked witch. “Well, that’s not the first time I’ve seen that.” 

“There you are.”

You quickly turned around at the sound of a deep, growling voice coming from behind you. You gritted your teeth from how quick they were able to find you, despite the goose chase you had to deal with before finding them here. Charlie didn’t seem to figure out what the problem was. 

“Was that your Batman voice?” Charlie asked the boys, smiling to herself at the impression she thought was funny. You quickly whipped out your gun and pointed it at them when you saw their eyes glow an emerald green. “That’s definitely not your Batman voice.” 

“It’s her.” You told them, pointing the weapon at the boys when they started to approach you. “I saw her possess them.”

“I’ve missed you my pretty.” The witch used Sam’s body to pass on the message to Dorothy, smiling at the trouble all of you landed yourself into. “Killing you a second time will be just as sweet as the first.” 

“Guys, I know you’re in there.” You tried to somehow speak to them, hoping your voice might be able to reach them before they could do something stupid at the command of the wicked witch. "Dean, don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to do this." 

“Oh, but I do.” You suddenly felt a grip around your throat with a tight enough of a grip to cut off any oxygen you tried to breathe in from the unexpected attack from Dean’s hand. He used what strength he had against you to his advantage to get you out of way, even momentarily. The man tossed you across the room without much of a care where you landed. His focus landed on the red head that stood before him, looking rather terrified at what he just did. 

“Dean, come on.” Charlie hoped there might be a way to speak to the man, despite her doubts when you miserably failed. “If she opens the door, she’s going to destroy Oz.”

Charlie miserably failed when Dean grabbed a hold of her and roughly shoved the woman into a window, shattering the glass into pieces. She was pinned into place with no real chance out of this. Charlie knew what kind of skills and strength Dean he could use to hurt her if she didn’t find a way to get out of his grip before it was too late. 

“I have no intention of escaping to Oz.” The witch said. Charlie watched as Dean’s lips stretched into a smirk as Sam told them about her true plans she had all along. “I’m going to bring my armies here.”

\+ + +

There were two things you were absolutely certain of; your head was killing you from the second time of being thrown around tonight against your will. And there was no way in hell you were letting some wicked witch control the boys like they were her flying monkeys. You stumbled back up to your feet and grabbed your gun for a precautionary measure if things went south faster than you could handle. You took pride in yourself being a good hunter. But even you knew this fight was rigged against your favor. The brothers had a significant amount of strength and height compared to you if you were to go up against both of them at the same time.

Charlie was still pinned against the broken window with Dean keeping her in place and Dorothy was on the ground, Sam looming over her after he punched the woman when she was distracted and unable to dodge the attack. It was three against two. The odds made it an unfair fight—for the boys, that was. Neither one of the boys knew what was about to hit them. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean reassured the red head about the similar demise that was waiting for the both of you. “You and your friend will join Dorothy right after you watch her die.”

“Sorry. I really don’t think that’s gonna happen.” You grew a smirk when you caught the attention of Sam and Dean, distracting them momentarily from the two women in their grasp. “I’ve dealt with enough crazy for a lifetime, but I draw the line at a wicked witch possessing my boyfriend. Flying monkeys are a bit of an overkill, don’t you think?”

Charlie took the opportunity to do the unthinkable to her best friend in order to get away from him while under the spell of the witch before she could get hurt. She swung her leg up and kicked him in the privates, hard enough to make you wince from how painful it looked. Dean went sinking down to the ground as Charlie escaped and distanced herself from the man. Dorothy took her chance as Sam was focused on the both of you managing to escape from them. She grabbed a long pipe that was leaning against the wall and whacked the younger Winchester right in the face, causing him to stumble to the ground as well, letting her push herself up to her feet.

Dorothy didn’t think for a second when she threw the other ruby red slipper she had been holding over to Charlie, who caught it with ease. “Go! We’ll buy you some time.”

“Be careful!” Charlie shouted before she went running for the staircase before either one of the boys could try and go after her. Right now they were more concerned about the two other women who were about to kick their asses. Your smirk widened as you placed your fists up, egging them on even further to make the first move.

You had been in your fair share of physical fights during your time of hunting, too many to keep track of. You were taught by the very people you were going up against. And went up against monsters with equal or more strength than you had. It didn’t stop you from giving it your all, letting you come out as the victor most of the time. You didn’t think you had personally gone up against one of the boys in a fit of rage that turned physical. Most of the time it was you who had to break up the brawl that broke up between the boys. Now it was your turn to have a little fun.

You had to admit you’d been off your game ever since you stopped doing the trials. Dean had been doing his best to sideline you. It was your chance to redeem yourself and prove that you weren’t weak anymore. You could handle this all on your own.

You managed to shake off every punch Dean landed your way when you couldn’t dodge them. He wasn’t going down without a proper fight. And so were you. You threw a few punches here and there, taking him down from doing anything stupid. You showed no signs of stopping anytime soon when you laughed. “Oh, buddy. I can do—”

You found yourself regretting the words you were about to mock the witch with when Dean roughly grabbed you by the throat and shoved you into the nearest wall. You clawed at his skin in some kind of attempt to break free, but he proved himself more powerful under the woman’s spell. “My body might not be able to kill, Dorothy. But theirs can. And you will be next.” The witch taunted you back, chuckling darkly as you struggled to try and shake off Dean’s tight grip. “You’re weak. No match for me.” 

You found yourself suddenly seeing red at her words. It was a trigger of some sort you didn’t realize you had buried deep inside of you until this very moment when they were spoken out loud. You swing your fist straight up into Dean’s stomach, knocking the air right out of his lungs and making him drop his grip from your neck. You kicked your leg and shoved him backwards with your foot, giving yourself some distance between the both of you. You felt your breathing turning into heavier pants from the anger that was coming over you and planning on lashing out at him. 

“I am not weak.” You seethed at the witch. You found her words cutting you deeper when they were coming from the man you loved. “You have no idea who the hell you’re going up against, you bitch. If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’re gonna get!”

Without thinking, you drew back your arm and got ready to give it your all this time, not caring about the physical pain Dean would deal with later on. You’d help ice his wounds and apologize when the time came. You were dead set on letting out your frustrations, not not taking into consideration Charlie broke the spell. You didn’t see the flash of emerald in the boys’ eyes and their deathly expressions change into confused ones. You only realized when you were left with a throbbing fist and hearing Dean’s infamous three words you knew could only come from him. 

“Son of a bitch!” You heard him grunt out. 

You furrowed your brow in absolute confusion from the reaction you weren’t expecting to come out of his mouth. “Dean?”

“What the hell just happened?” Sam asked. He looked between you and Dorothy, inspecting the bruises and bloodied up faces, wondering how you managed to get those wounds. The younger man was quick to figure out the answer when he realized he was holding the demon knife. 

If the spell was broken and the boys were back to their normal selves, it meant Charlie had killed the witch. You and Dorothy shared a glance, mumbling the young woman’s name, half out of happiness at how she managed to save the day. And in fear if she was all right. The four of you headed to the front area of the bunker, cautiously making sure there were no flying monkeys or the wicked witch to stop you if she was somehow still alive by chance. Only you shouldn’t have doubted the red head. You stopped in your tracks when you caught sight of her leaning over the balcony that overlooked the ground floor. She waved the key and smirked at her victory. The woman managed to do it all by herself. 

“Ding dong, bitches.” 

\+ + +

Everything was back to the way it rightfully was. The wicked witch was dead. You didn’t need to drop a house on her or throw a bucket of water to kill the bitch. A pair of ruby red slippers was the key to ending it all. Dorothy had the key back to Oz and Charlie got another chance to live out her fantasy of a hunt filled with magic and quests, even if it only lasted for the night. Not to mention the discovery Dean made about the bunker he never knew that right was under his nose. A garage stocked with different sorts of tools at his disposal to fix up the Impala and several classic cars to gawk over. What he was most excited of all was to have Baby near him. You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled in delight at how she looked in here, she fit in perfectly. Like it was meant to be.

“Baby looks good in here, doesn’t she?” Dean marveled at the sight of the Impala. You chuckled at how he was acting and shook your head. “Hey, how come you never told Sam and me about this place?”

“I don’t know. It sort of slipped my mind.” You said, shrugging your shoulders at the proper answer. “And I wanted to keep it a little secret. Just in case you both try to put me in the corner again when it comes to a hunt. Gotta make sure I have a good escape.”

Dean rolled his eyes at your excuse making you laugh once again. You looked over to see Sam and Charlie making their way up the staircase to join the rest of you after she got everything packed up and Crowley was back in lockdown. The redhead nodded for the older Winchester to follow her to the other side of the garage to have a private conversation away from the group. Sam headed over with something in his hands, a book he figured Dorothy might want back.

“Dorothy. I found something in the archives. Pretty sure it belongs to you.” Sam held up a first edition novel of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the very first book her father had written about her. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips at the novel as she reached for it.

“You have no idea how odd it is having a series of books written about you.” Dorothy said. A quiet laugh escaped your mouth from her statement you could relate to a little too much to.

“Actually, we do know, and it is definitely weird.” You said. You and the younger man shared a small smile from the oddness of your life that almost no one could say the same for. You would be the first one to admit having a few dozen books written about you sucked. But you learned a thing or two along the way that made you cherish them. “But you know what? End of the day, it’s our story, so we get to write it.”

Charlie glanced over at the small crowd of three to see they were in a conversation of their own to wonder what her and Dean were discussing. She had been itching to get the man alone since the conversation she had with Dorothy back in Dean’s bedroom.

“So, thanks for the slumber party…” Charlie started off slow, easing her way into the topic she wanted answers. Dean smiled and nodded his head without much thought. He figured this was a conversation that was going to end with a goodbye. But she wasn’t leaving without a serious discussion. “…And bringing me back from the dead.”

Dean tried to give the young woman a confused expression from her accusation, pretending to wonder where she had gotten such an idea from. “Uh, I didn’t.”

“Don’t B.S. a B.S.er.” Charlie pushed for the truth. Dean knew his little white lie wasn’t going to cut it. She could tell from the way his expression changed in a heartbeat. She didn’t know if she should be relieved, or nervous at the consequences she was going to have to face with her new chance at life. “Am I a zombie now? Do I need to eat brains?”

“No, no, no. You’re you. You’re gonna be fine, all right?” Dean tried to reassure the woman that everything was the way it was before she got attacked. He glanced over at you and Sam to see the both of you were still oblivious to the conversation. And he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. “Just keep this between us, okay?”

Charlie rolled her eyes in annoyance from how secretive Dean was being with her. She didn’t know why he was acting like this. But she honored the man’s wishes from the things he had done for her. “All right, but only ‘cause you raised me from the dead, which you’re going to have to explain to me later.”

“All right.” Dean grumbled in defeat.

“Not bad for a bunch of librarians.” Dorothy approached the both of them just in time as the conversation was dropped once and for all. You and Sam followed behind to join the rest of them. “You mind keeping an eye on my bike for me?”

“Yeah. Totally.” You agreed with the woman’s only request. You glanced over your shoulder to take a peek at the motorcycle to see it in all of its glory where it had been collecting dust for almost eighty years. “As long as you don’t mind one of us taking it for a spin once in a while.”

“Deal.” Dorothy said. You smiled at the compromise and crossed your arms over your chest. It was a pleasure to meet the real Dorothy you had read about in the novels. She was strong and smart. Not to mention a Woman of Letters. A rare thing you discovered while poking your nose around the archives. You were happy to be not the only one to be able to hold the title anymore. “Thank you for everything. Now, if you excuse me, I have a rebellion to finish. So, you coming or what?”

The question was directed to Charlie, who suddenly looked like a deer in headlights at the opportunity she thought was too good to be true. “What? With you?” She asked. The grin that spread across her lips and the way her face lit up made you chuckle. “To Oz?”

“Yeah. You said you were looking for adventure. Well, here it is, Red.” Dorothy remembered the conversation she shared with the woman earlier. And she couldn’t have picked a better partner to share the adventure alongside with. “Come help find my damn dog.”

“You have no idea what’s in Oz. I mean, there’s flying monkeys, armies of witches.” Dean thought he was talking the young woman out of going to another world that wasn’t your own. Little did he realize he was pushing for her to take the opportunity. “There’s all kinds of danger.”

“Promise?” She asked, you felt your lips stretching into a smile at the sight of her happiness she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe quests don’t suck after all. You just need to find the right one. And this is yours.” You found yourself taking back what you had said earlier. There was no denying this was tailor made for the redhead. And who were you to deny her the chance at doing some good? Your quest in life wasn’t what you thought it was. Yours was staying here, hunting and keeping the world safe from monsters. Hers was in Oz. “Go. Get your magic. Just make sure you kick some flying monkey ass for us, Red. You deserve it.”

Charlie quickly pulled you into a hug at your blessings. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a tighter hug. A part of you was going to be always scared if she was safe, but Dorothy was going to make a great partner. And Charlie knew how to kick some ass. You pulled away to give the boys a chance at saying their goodbyes to the woman.

“If you need anything just tape your heels together three times, okay?” Sam gave the woman a hug of his own, making sure to keep the promise of always being here for when she decided to make her return back home.

“Me? What about you crazy kids?” She asked. “You gonna be alright without me?”

“I’ll make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.” You reassured the young woman.

“Take care of our boys, Y/N.” Charlie said. You nodded your head at her request. “And make sure you do the same for yourself.”

Charlie gave the three of you one final smile before looking over at Dorothy. She inhaled a deep breath and turned around with the woman to make their journey into Oz. Dorothy pulled the key out from the inside pocket of her jacket and placed it inside the lock of the doors. You watched as she pushed them open, revealing Oz in all of its glory. You felt your jaw parting open in amazement; you could see Emerald city in the distance and the yellow brick road to guide them. The scenery was gorgeous with its green mountains and miles of endless grass. It was straight out of the novel, better than you could ever imagine.

You felt a smile tug at your lips as Charlie made her first steps into the new world. She was the happiest you had ever seen her. The young woman stopped for a moment to give you and the boys one final smile. Dorothy saluted you as her final goodbye before the two women departed on their way. The doors slowly closed as they made their way down the yellow brick road. Deep down you knew they were going to be more than okay. Dorothy and Charlie made a great duo. They were going to have many adventures of their own. The boys opened up the double doors to make sure the entrance to Oz was closed. All you saw was the tunnel that led to the outside. Nothing else.

“Think she’ll be back?” You asked the boys.

“Of course.” Sam said. You turned your head to look up at the man from what he said next. A smile crept on your lips as Dean sneaked a hand around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. “There’s no place like home.”

In any other situation the words that came out of Sam’s mouth would have felt cheesy. But in a way he was right. Home doesn’t always have to be a place. Sam learned that from the lifestyle he led. Home can be a person. No matter where your quest took you, you knew you would always feel at home with the boys at your side.


	5. Dog Dean Afternoon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Best cure of all.”

You grimaced at the sight of Dean’s infamous hangover cure he swore was the key to getting over the consequences of drinking from the previous night before. You and the boys had given Kevin a chance to cut loose and enjoy himself away from his responsibilities in hopes it might help make the kid feel more refreshed. Only it seemed the opposite reaction happened. Kevin complained of a headache that wouldn’t go away and feeling nauseous to the point he feared he might throw up. You didn’t think he would have taken it so hard, and he was such a lightweight. Luckily through the complaints of an upset stomach and how the room spinned he managed to keep down the food you offered him.

Dean suggested an infamous Winchester speciality that might be able to kick this hangover in its ass, his own words. You watched in disturbance as Kevin drank two glasses of the stuff. The sight made you flashback to your younger pre-hunting days where you were a lightweight compared to the way a Winchester could handle their alcohol. Dean always could drink you under the table, not that you tried to keep up with him when you drank with him. The next morning you suffered the consequences almost exactly like Kevin had. Dean swore the drink he created helped. You swallowed it down and a few minutes later you threw up everything you had drank from the night before, and anything else that hadn’t digested yet. You admitted the stuff made you feel better. But you wouldn’t touch that stuff ever again.

You told Kevin to keep resting up and sleep off the hangover for a little while longer. When you were sure the kid was going to be fine on his own, you and Dean made your way to the war room where Sam had been occupying for a little while. He sat at the table with his laptop open and doing a little bit of research, hopefully accomplishing something better than the fiasco you had endured just a few minutes ago.

“Wow.” Dean’s approaching voice made his brother turn his attention away from the screen for a moment to see the both of you appeared to be beside yourselves in what you just went through. Sam gave you a confused expression, wondering what the problem was. “Kevin. Just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice.”

“Buffalo milk?” Sam repeated what his brother just said, not exactly sure if he wanted to know where the man managed to get his hands on the suff. You sat on the edge of the table as Dean placed his hands on the back of an empty rolling chair next to his brother and leaned his body forward.

“Yeah, Dean’s infamous hangover cure-all. It’s apparently got everything in it. Except buffalo milk. God, the smell of it alone brought me back to my early twenties.” You mumbled, your nose scrunching up at the past memories you wished stayed buried. “Hopefully it’ll help Kevin from puking anymore of his guts out.”

“How is that kid still recovering from Branson?” Sam had seen his fair share of lightweights in his time, but there might have been nobody who couldn’t tolerate alcohol the way Kevin showed he wasn’t able to. You shrugged your shoulders from the lack of answers. The poor kid was a lost cause. You figured he would have taken the first chance he got to crawl into a bottle in some kind of attempt to bury the trauma that came from the chaos that ensued.

“What can I say? He’s an amateur.” Dean said. You scoffed as your reaction, feeling that was an understatement from the way you left the poor kid. “The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy.”

“All right. Well, I got something that’s gonna get us back on the road.” Sam offered a change of subject to something he thought his brother might be interested in hearing. The older man took a seat next to him as you leaned over to take a quick peek at the screen, wondering what kind of case it was.

“Great.” You said. “I’ve been itching to stretch my legs and get out there again.”

Dean turned his head to your direction when you voiced your happiness of tagging along. The man was hesitant about letting you back out there after the favor Ezekial had done for him, and the warning of the consequences of furthering his stay. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

You furrowed your brow from his question, “Why would I not be ready for that?”

“Aren’t you kind of running on empty?” Dean asked in concern.

“Yeah, but the last three nights straight, I had eight hours of shut-eye. And for a hunter, that’s like twenty.” You tried to talk the man into letting you do your damn job without restrictions. You looked over at Sam to see the young man was hesitant himself about giving you the chance to tag along on a hunt. You rolled your eyes from the way they were acting. “Trust me, guys. I feel good.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but you’re still recovering from the trials. I think you ought to pace yourself, you know? And the sooner you heal…” Dean reminded you of a little fact he thought slipped your mind. You crossed your arms over your chest at the flimsy excuse he thought was going to work on you. When he trailed off and fell silent for a moment, you raised your brow in curiosity as to what he was going to say next. “Sam and I just want you back to your old self.”

“I am, guys. I know my body better than anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Kevin’s back on the heaven spell. Crowley’s locked up. We should be out there doing what we do best.” You said. The boys thought otherwise from their unspoken actions that said more than they were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as Dean leaned back in his seat and kicked up one of his legs to the table. The man tried to get a word into the argument, but you stopped him before he could. “Sammy, what’s this case you got for us?”

“Uh, a taxidermist named Max Alexander mysteriously crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken.” Sam read off the gory details that caught his attention in the first place. “Poor guy is a human pretzel.”

“Tell me, Dean, what’s got that kind of strength?” You asked him, curious to see what his response was going to be since he had so much to say just a minute ago.

“A demonic luchador?” Dean made little effort into trying to make an education assumption to what might be the cause behind the out of ordinary death.

“Shop’s a couple hours away in Enid, Oklahoma.” Sam said. “We should at least check it out.”

“Unless the boss man thinks there’s some reason we shouldn’t.” You directed your gaze back over to the older Winchester to hear what he had to say. A smile crept to the edges of your lips from the way he fell silent. The response to his defeat. You slid off the table and back to your feet to get started on the packing that was ahead of you. Before you did, you wanted to make one thing clear. “Don’t forget the fact that I kicked your ass just the other day. And I’ll gladly do it again.”

You went on your way from stating the small fact you thought was enough proof to get you back on hunting without them worrying about your health. Dean let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face from your ever growing stubborn behavior. “I swear, I don’t even know why I even bother with her.”

\+ + +

You and the boys arrived in Oklahoma a few hours later, the first stop on your list was checking out the crime scene that was still crawling with cops. The first suspicious thing you noticed before even walking into the building was the threat painted on the front entrance of Max Alexander’s taxidermy business. “Die Scum” was written in all capital letters. Whoever painted the threat wanted to get their message across loud as possible. And someone made sure to keep to the painted words. You wondered if it was done by the same person. A few monsters liked to taunt their victims before going in for the thrill of the kill.

Sam noticed something in the letter M that was worth pointing out. You noticed it was an upside down triangle with what appeared to be a paw print. He snapped a quick picture with his phone for future research and headed inside with the rest of you. Taxidermy was something you didn’t give much of a second thought about. However when you stepped into Max’s business, you found yourself surrounded by endless animals of all sorts, all dead and stuffed for display. Animals’ heads mounted to the wall, birds frozen in mid flight, wild cats bearing their sharp fangs appearing as if they were ready to attack. There was some sort of strange craft to stuffing a dead animal and making it look realistic.

“Well, the creep factor just skyrocketed.” Dean mumbled, eyeing the dozens of dead animals surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A sheriff stopped the three of you, not sure who you were. 

“How are you? I’m Special Agent Chaplin.” You introduced yourself to him, flashing your fake FBI badge to the man. “These are my partners Agent Michaels and DeVille.”

“The body’s already been to the morgue. Just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens. He’s the one who discovered the boy.” The sheriff explained. You looked over to see an older man leaning against the register, still distraught from the events he thought would have never happened in a million years. “Such a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg.”

“Sorry for your loss.” Dean gave his condolences to the officer. “You mind showing my partner around? Agent Chaplin and I have a couple of questions for Mr. Stephens.”

The sheriff nodded his head and gestured for Sam to follow him into the next room where the murder took place. You and Dean approached the older man, figuring he might know a thing or two that might be helpful in discovering if this case might be worth your while.

“Dave Stephens?” You asked. You and Dean flashed your badges once again at the man, “My partner and I have got a couple of questions for you if that’s all right.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” Dave responded without an ounce of hesitation. “Max was a real pal.”

“Hunting buddy?” You wondered. You smiled ever so slightly when you saw his expression immediately change into surprise from how you were able to answer correctly in one guess. You had a feeling it was a common hobby among the locals from the sight of this place. “So, about what time did you discover the body?”

“About nine A.M.—my usual pickup time.” Dave answered. “I come in every Wednesday and Sundays to collect the entrails.”

You furrowed your brow from the terminology. “The entrails?”

“The animal organs. After Max would dig them out and work his magic.” Dave said. “He was a real artist, you know?”

You discovered what kind of magic Max was able to do with the creatures he was given. You found your attention lingering away from the conversation for a moment when you spotted Sam exploring the man’s collection. You quickly bit your bottom lip to keep a smile from spreading across your lips at the little creature he was holding that appeared to be dressed as a character from Game of Thrones. Sam amused himself from the expression that crossed his face. Dean found it nothing more than bizarre as to why a grown man would waste his time putting so much effort into such a thing.

“Strange thing is, though,” The both of you quickly turned your full attention back to Dave to hear what else he had to say, pretending as if you were distracted by something childish. “bins were empty this morning.”

“Why is that strange?” Dean asked.

“Well, because it’s a Sunday. Weekend hunts are pretty much a given in this neck of the woods, so they’re usually chock-full of guts.” Dave explained as to why it was out of the ordinary for him.

“Any chance Max could have cleaned them out himself?” You wondered.

“No. It’s a biohazard. You can’t just throw the stuff out.” Dave said. You were learning all sorts of things about animal organs today, more than you ever wanted in your entire life. “You gotta burn it.”

“Huh. The more you know.” You gave him a polite smile from his explanation you could have gone without. You looked over to the sheriff when he approached the three of you again. “Is there anything else missing from the shop?”

“No.” The sheriff said. “The register was full, and the safe was intact. And all of Max’s trophies were still on the walls.”

“And was there anybody else here when you showed up?” Dean asked. 

“No one. No, other than the Colonel.” Dave chuckled and looked over his shoulder to Max’s pet. You felt a smile stretch across your lips at the sight of a German Shepard. 

Sam finished up his search around the crime scene and headed back over to you and his brother. You smiled at the sheriff and Dave, excusing yourself and walking over to another part of the shop where there was nobody else around to have a private conversation of your own to discuss what you found. You had a feeling this was going to be a worthwhile case after all. Everything was adding up with unusual circumstances.

“Okay, so,” You stood with your back to the crime scene, catching up with the younger man about everything you were able to learn in the short time. “We’ve got a thief who’s jonesing for animal parts, we’ve got a pagan symbol, and we’ve got a human pretzel.”

“Yeah, it all sounds very witch-y, but I wasn’t able to find a hex bag.” Sam said, putting a hole in his own theory to what might be to blame for the taxidermist’s death.

“All right, well, let’s keep digging. But not here.” Dean suggested. He didn’t move right away. You noticed his eyes wandered up to a part of the shop that kept his attention. You followed his gaze to see the man was staring at a stuffed owl hanging up on a high shelf, its yellow eyes fixated on the huner in a way that made him uncomfortable. “I don’t like the way that one’s looking at me.”

You stifled a laugh from his paranoid behavior and softly nudged him in the arm to get moving. The three of you still needed to get settled into a motel and started on research to figure out what was the cause of Max Alexander’s death. You took one more curious glance at the owl before heading out the front door.

\+ + +

“Okay, that symbol in the graffiti, it’s…not wiccan. It’s copywritten.” Sam worked right away on trying to figure out what the strange symbol you had seen back at the crime scene. The search took little effort into finding its source. You walked over to the man, dropping the shirt you pulled out from your bag you pulled out to change into and out of your fed clothes. He held out his laptop for Dean to take so the both of you could take a look at the homepage for yourselves. “Local animal rights group, Enid’s answer to PETA.”

“S.N.A.R.T.?” Dean read off the animal rights’ group and its terrible name they thought was a good idea. It stood for Showing No Animal Rough Treatment. You didn’t know if you should laugh or at least give them credit for trying to be original. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Well, it makes sense that an animals-rights group would have an axe to grind with a taxidermist.” Sam said.

“Why?” Dean asked, not seeing the connection between the two. “The animals’ already dead.”

“Yeah, but hunters are what keep them in business.” You added on. “Now the question is, are those bleeding hearts actually witches or just hippies?”

Dean glanced up from the laptop screen and to you, proposing a question. “What’s the difference?”

\+ + +

The difference between the two that one was capable of murder. You took doubt in the fact that a group of animal rights activists would go far as committing murder. But when you added the element of witchcraft that’s when the lines between right and wrong started to grow blurry. You and the boys decided to speak to a couple of the members after tracking them down to a vegan bakery called Gentle Earth. Business was booming with customers enjoying a plant-based meal inside and passing by a couple of women walking out with a cup of all organic and overly expensive coffee, ethically sourced you guessed.

“Always knew I’d find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery.” Dean muttered. The man felt out of his element from the people he was surrounded by.

Sam sniffed the air, finding an odor he couldn’t place his finger on. “What’s that smell?”

“Patchouli. Yeah, mixed with depression from meat deprivation.” Dean said. You rolled your eyes from the way he was acting in such an immature fashion. His strong beliefs were radical as those who thought eating animal products were cruel and unusual. The man drew your attention to the front counter when he spotted the owners waiting on a few customers. He was quick to point out a fashion accessory that was a bit odd from the setting that didn’t require them. “Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.”

You let out a quiet sigh and shook your head from the way he was acting, heading up to the counter to have a discussion with the owners. “Olivia and Dylan Camrose?” You asked the couple. Olivia nodded and smiled. “You two are members of S.N.A.R.T, correct?”

“Founders and co-presidents, actually.” Olivia corrected you about the role they played in the activist group. She playfully bumped shoulders with her husband, both of them sharing matching smiles from the hard work they loved doing. Olivia reached out and grabbed a brochure that was kept near a display of their desserts, presuming all of you were curious for being part of a good cause. “Can we interest you in some literature?”

You politely shook your head. “Or a flaxseed scone?” Dylan asked. You looked down at the pastry that appeared to be tasty at first glance, until you heard the lack of ingredients that made it vegan. “It’s wheat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, and surprisingly moist.”

“Let me stop you right there.” Dean was quick to end this conversation before he could get roped any further into this hippie lifestyle he wanted nothing to do with. He pulled out his badge to flash it at the couple and got to the reason why you were here in the first place. “We’re here to investigate the death of Max Alexander, a local taxidermist.”

Olivia placed the brochure to the counter, her body growing stiff at the unexpected news. “He’s…dead?”

“You knew him?” You asked.

“Ish. Um…” She glanced over to her husband before finishing her response. “small town.”

“Well, he was murdered last night, and a S.N.A.R.T. logo was found at the crime scene.” Sam informed the couple. All though their eyes were covered with a pair of dark shades, the man could see the couples’ body language change in a way that made him suspicious. “You two wouldn’t have to know anything about that, would you?”

The couple thought it would be best for everyone to move this conversation somewhere else. All of you moved to an empty table in the middle of the bakery to hear their side of the story and fill in the gaps of that night.

“His business is funded by hunters. And you know how hunters are.” Dylan immediately lost you from the point he was trying to make. He was more than happy to elaborate on his view of them. “They’re selfish dicks who define themselves by what they kill.”

You had to admit you were a little offended by their presumption, despite the type of hunters who they were talking about was the complete opposite of what you did. “And as animal advocates, we couldn’t stand for that.” Olivia added on.

“So, you killed him?” Sam questioned the couple. 

“Of course not.” Olivia said. She was awfully quick to shoot down the accusation that was simply false. “S.N.A.R.T. doesn’t tolerate violence.”

“Huh. This is coming from a couple who spray-paints death threats.” Dean said, bringing up the red flag that seemed out of character for someone who advocated for the complete opposite for animals lives.

“It was a scare tactic.”Dylan defended himself. “We just wanted to spook him.”

“Turns out we were the ones who got spooked.” Olivia admitted. You wondered exactly what she meant by that, causing her to elaborate even further on her story. She passed a glance over at her husband, who nodded his head, feeling it was the right thing to do in order to set the record straight. “Well, last night, when we were tagging the joint, we heard this noise.”

“A hissing noise.” Dylan added.

“It freaked us out, so we ran into the alley.” Olivia continued on.

“But someone attacked us.”

“Sprayed us in the eyes with mace.”

“And it’s not like we could go to the cops.”

“So, now we look like total douchebags because we have to wear our sunglasses inside.” Olivia gave the reason why the couple was forced to wear the dark shades indoors, making them feel exactly like what Dean had said earlier. You didn’t even bother looking over at the older man to see his smug smile at his judgement that turned out to be right.

The couple took off their sunglasses to show the damage that had been done to them from the surprise pepper spray attack. You winced at the scarring around their eyes that sure didn’t look like it was caused by something like pepper spray. It almost appeared to be acid burns from the extent of the physical damages. Dean subtly wagged his index finger, signaling for them to put the shades back on after finding the burns a little too uncomfortable to keep staring at.

\+ + +

You did a little research of your own after you made it back to the motel and changed out of your fed clothes for some jeans and a shirt. Something about the burn like wounds the couple had gotten didn’t seem to add up. And you were right about your suspicions.

“Necrosis?” Dean read off the medical term you discovered, wondering what it meant.

“Premature death of tissues—that’s why their eyes were all messed up.” You said. “And it’s not caused by mace.”

“All right.” Dean twisted off the cap to his beer and tossed it to the sink. He leaned over your shoulder and placed a hand on the table to steady himself in doing so. He read off the medical information about black eyes from the page you pulled up. “What causes it?”

“Right here.” You placed a finger on the screen and began to read off something from the paragraph that might explain the reason behind the couples’ painful looking burns. “‘Blunt force, radiation, venom.’”

“As in ‘snake’?” Dean guessed from the sounds of it.

“The taxidermist was constricted. Olivia and Dylan heard hissing, and they were sprayed in the eyes. By venom. Sounds snake-y to me. I say if it does turn out to be that, we should skin it and turn it into a fabulous pair of boots.” You suggested. Dean chuckled at your joke, taking a seat from across from you at the table. “Bet S.N.A.R.T would love that.”

“Okay, so…what are we talking here,” Dean said, deciding to get serious for a moment to try and figure out what you might be hunting. “Some sort of freaky-ass snake monster?”

“Maybe.” You mumbled. You fell silent for a moment trying to figure out how all of this added up to make proper sense with what knowledge you had about the reptilians. “The weird thing is snakes either envenomate or constrict. No snake does both.”

“Correction,” Dean said. “freaky-ass mega-snake monster.”

You quietly chuckled to yourself before throwing out your best guess as to what it might be. “It could be a vetala.”

“Yeah, but they’re not afraid to sink their fangs in. Taxidermist was bite free. It doesn’t really fit the profile.” Dean reminded you about the small detail. You nodded your head. A sigh fell from your lips at the lack of leads you had at the moment. Dean came to your rescue of adding another pair of hands to the night of research ahead for you and Sam. “Call Kevin. Have him look some stuff up.”

You shut your laptop and reached for your phone when you decided to do just that. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands on the case while you figured out what you were hunting. You just hoped the poor kid still wasn’t feeling hungover. The internet only had so much information at your fingertips, the Men of Letters’ library would hopefully have the answers you were looking for. You needed to find out and quick, before another life could be taken.

\+ + +

By the next morning you and the boys could add another body to the list. A young man was murdered late into the evening, at an animal shelter of all places. You had a feeling it wasn’t a coincidence from the one you were looking into. Both of them dealt with animals in the location of where they were killed, but the difference between the two was how it was done. Max had his body contorted in a violent manner, the newest victim’s body was covered in his own blood after being clawed to death. You took one more good observation before the body bag was zipped up and the coroner pushed him out to the van, where the man would be shipped off to the morgue.

“Claw marks?” Dean noted the different cause of death. 

“Yeah. The cops said all the cats went missing.” Sam added on to the weird factor of the case. You didn’t understand why someone would go through all the trouble to steal all the felines from the shelter only to leave the rest of the animals. You highly doubted there was a crazy cat lady/animal lover behind both of these murders.

You passed by the dog kennels as you and the boys made your way through the shelter, all abandoned for one reason of another and in need of adoption. All their little faces and adorable eyes made your heart melt. What you wouldn’t do to be able to give them all a good permanent home. “Right, so,” You focused your attention back onto the conversation. “Yesterday we’re dealing with some sort of snake monster. Today it’s a killer kitty. Makes sense.”

“Hey.” Dean stopped at a particular cage when he spotted a German Shepard that he swore he saw before. “Why does that mutt look familiar?”

You reached out to grab the clipboard and glanced at the dog’s information to see what his name was. Dean was right. You had seen him yesterday. “That was the taxidermist’s dog.”

“So, he’s been at both crime scenes?” Dean found all of this to be more than just a simple coincidence. You merely shrugged your shoulders, Sam nodded at the similarities. “Maybe he’s a suspect. You know, may—” He stopped for a moment when he saw an officer passed by before continuing when the man was out of earshot, continuing on with his theory to who might be to blame for this. The dog sitting inside the kennel. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a shapeshifter.”

You stared at the German Shepherd, who merely sat there with his tongue wagging out, the sight alone made you smile from how innocent he looked. “Doesn’t look like a monster to me.” You crouched down so you were at level with the dog and stuck your fingers through the fencing, letting the Colonel move forward and sniff your skin to get your smell. When he felt comfortable enough you scratched under his chin. “More like a handsome boy.”

“One way to find out.” Dean took out a silver dollar from his pocket and sank down to the ground next to you. “Come here, boy. Hey. This isn’t gonna hurt at all. Unless it hurts”

Dean rubbed the coin behind one of the Colonel’s ears, and like you suspected, nothing out of the ordinary happened. “Huh. Guess we can rule out killer.” You said. You scratched one of the dog’s ears, smiling in delight from how he reacted. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

You pulled your hand out of the cage and pushed yourself up to your feet right when the Colonel changed his tune. You watched as he went from a content dog to barking at the stranger who approached from behind. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was just the sheriff. For some reason the Colonel did not like him.

“Do you agents need any further assistance?” He asked. You noticed right as the sheriff took off his hat the barking stopped. You didn’t think much of it. You presumed the Colonel who the stranger was and stopped.

“Officer, I think we’re okay.” Sam said. “Thanks.”

“All right, well,” The sheriff nodded. “let me know.”

You noticed right when he put his hat back on the Colonel started barking again. Dean picked up the observation as well. He pushed himself back up to his feet and stopped the sheriff from going anywhere, needing to test a possible theory from asking a strange favor from the man. “Officer. Excuse me, can I borrow your hat?”

The sheriff willingly handed over his hat. You watched as Dean turned over to the kennel and merely placing the hat over his head caused the Colonel to erupt into barking again. Right as he took it off, the barking stopped. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked over at the boys, each of you seeming to have the same idea. You heard the sheriff make a remark about the kind of trouble the dog was going to have getting adopted before being on his way. It was something more. You turned your attention back to the German Shepard as he continued barking before the man was gone.

“Okay, so, the Colonel’s not a suspect.” Sam said, noticing himself about the strange reaction.

“Yeah, but he’s a witness.” Dean mumbled. “Hey, boy. You speak sign language?”

“That’s monkeys.” Sam corrected his brother on the animals he was thinking about. “You know what? This is gonna sound crazy. I read this book about this guy who tried to teach his dog to speak after it witnessed a murder.”

“And it worked?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask out of curiosity to see if it was a success, despite how you chuckled at the bizarre idea. Sam shook his head. “But he wrote a book about it?”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t have what we have.” Sam said. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the number of someone who was able to help you. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. “Kevin. Hey, it’s me. How do we speak to a dog?”

\+ + +

To say you were excited about spending the afternoon with the German Shepard was an understatement. You ignored Dean’s annoyed stares and remarks from having the dog ride in the backseat with you and the chance of getting the interior ruined. You needed the Colonel in order to figure out who killed his owner. And he was on his best behavior. You sat on the floor of the motel while Sam gathered all the supplies you would need to make the spell in order to speak to the dog.

“You are just so handsome.” You cooed at the German Shepherd, petting him and scratching behind his ear when you found a spot he liked the most. “I think this might be my favorite hunt we’ve ever done. A cute face like yours will get adopted in no time. Who’s a good boy? It’s you. Yes, you are.”

“Don’t get too attached to the mutt. We’re not keeping him.” Dean reminded you. He didn’t understand why you were gushing over the dog. It wasn’t like you were going to be able to keep him. He wasn’t a personal fan of dogs. Didn’t understand what the big hype was about. They bark at the smallest things, not to mention how they liked to shed everywhere. It was like having a child covered in fur. “We’re doing the spell, figuring out who killed his owner and it’s back to the pound.”

“I know that. But it’s not everyday we get to work with such a pretty dog. German Shepherds have always been my favorite. I wanted one as a kid. But my mom was allergic.” You explained to the older Winchester why you were attached to the Colonel. You smiled and continued speaking to the dog in the kind of childlike voice Dean always found irritating. You praised the mutt for doing nothing but sitting there. Despite how this annoyed him with everyone else, he had to admit he liked seeing you so happy. It’d been a while since he got to see how your face lit up and with a genuine smile. You seemed to notice the older man’s pessimistic behavior. “He’s a grump. Dean doesn’t like dogs. But how can you not love such a cute face?”

You softly patted the Colonel one last time before you got back up from the ground when the door to the room opened, revealing Sam with all the ingredients you would need for the spell. You made your way over to the table to get started. However you felt a nudge on your knee, distracting you from participating. A smile crept on your lips when you saw the Colonel was back at your side. He rested his head on your lap and stared at you with those puppy dog eyes. You playfully rolled your eyes before you went on petting him, listening as Sam got started.

“An inuit spell?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Sam said. You watched as he reached for another ingredient and mixed it into the plastic bowl he found in the motel that was supposed to be used for ice. “Who knew the Men of Letters had its own Eskimo section?”

“I swear, you discover something new in that place.” You mumbled to yourself. “And it’s supposed to let us communicate with the Colonel?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the plan.” Sam answered. He reached out and plucked a hair off the Colonel’s backside, the strange disruption from you scratching his head made the dog lift its head up from your lap to see what the younger man was doing. Sam dropped the hair into the bowl and stirred it into the mixture to make sure it was all combined together. “Kevin said it’s like a sort of human/animal mind meld.”

“Meaning?” Dean questioned his brother, wondering about the simplified version of the spell.

“If it works,” Sam explained to his brother as he poured a vial looking brown liquid into a clean cup. Your face scrunched up slightly from realizing that you were going to have to drink that for the chance to communicate with the Colonel someway. “we should be able to read the Colonel’s thoughts.”

“All right, I’ll do it.” The older Winchester declared, snatching the cup off the table before either you or his brother could jump on the opportunity. You let out a loud scoff from the move that he pulled, prompting you to give him a look to explain himself of why he wanted to do this.“You got enough on your plate, sweetheart.”

“Like, what?” You questioned him in a frustrated tone of voice.

“Uh, like…you’re tired.” Dean sniffed the drink before giving a bogus response. You quietly laughed from the answer even you knew was crap. You weren’t tired. Sure, you weren’t back to yourself one hundred percent, but you didn’t understand why you couldn’t do the spell. “You’re on the mend. Okay? Plus, Sammy’s got a sensitive stomach. Last thing we need is him chucking this stuff up. Huh?”

“You hate dogs.” You pointed out to him.

“No, I don’t.” Dean chuckled off the accusation. The Colonel turned his head and let out a quiet noise that sounded like a bark. You quietly laughed. Guess the dog disagreed. Dean rolled his eyes from the petty argument. He turned his attention to the drink that he had to unfortunately swallow. He had his fair share of weird food and drinks over the years, the stuff should have gone down easy. “Doesn’t look so bad.” Dean drank the entire thing like it was a shot. He let out a sigh from the aftertaste that lingered. “I was wrong.”

“You wanted to do it…” You muttered under your breath.

“Come on.” Dean waved a hand for his brother to fork over the words he needed to say to make the spell complete. He coughed a few times from the way the drink snuck up on him as it settled into his stomach with consequences. He managed to chant a few lines without barfing up the ingredients. You examined the Colonel to see if anything might happen. The dog continued to rest at your feet. “All right. Let’s get this party started. Tell me everything you know.” The Colonel responded by letting out a yawn. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Dean amused himself with a corny joke as he let out a quiet chuckle. You and his brother didn’t think it was funny. “Tough crowd.”

The Colonel threw the man a bone when he lifted his head up and let out an unexpected bark. You raised your brow slightly and looked over at Dean, hoping somehow it was the dog’s way of communicating. Dean merely shook his head. You let out a quiet sigh from how the spell failed. Well, it was worth a shot.

\+ + +

A little while later you and the boys settled down for a quick lunch as you discussed the next possible course of action. You weren’t hungry as you thought you were. Every once in a while you ripped off a piece of your hamburger and fed it to the Colonel when the boys weren’t looking. You felt like a kid feeding their unwanted vegetables to the family pet so you could be excused from dinner. He kept staring at you with those puppy dog eyes. You couldn’t resist just giving him a treat. You’d find something else to snack on later like you normally did while you completed some more research.

“So, call Kevin.” Dean said. “Spell tasted like ass and it was a bust.”

“At least it didn’t affect your appetite.” You noted. “Geez. I’ve never seen you eat like that before. Take it slower next time. You’re not that young anymore.”

Dean rolled his eyes from your remark about his eating habits. He opened his mouth to try and excuse the reason for his ravenous appetite, but someone cut him off. “Change the station.” Dean heard a male voice come out of thin air. He turned his head head to the dog sitting next to him when he realized it wasn’t Sam complaining of the station he turned on the radio. The Colonel continued as he was while Dean observed him for any kind of change in behavior, his mouth hung open with a little bit of drool escaping his mouth. Dean heard the request again. “Change the station.”

“What?” Dean asked the dog for some kind of clarification. He wasn’t exactly sure how the spell might work if it actually did. Sam repeated after his brother, not sure himself of what was going on. When the older man did, he was quick to hush the both of you from trying to say anything else. The Colonel must’ve been speaking to the man telepathically. “You—shut up. It’s working!”

“It—go!” You hissed at the man.

“Say that again.” Dean told the dog.

“You call this classic rock? Next thing you know, they’ll be playing Styx.” The Colonel had an opinion on Dean’s music taste of all things. To say Dean was oddly offended would have been an understatement. One thing was for sure, he didn’t stand for something trashing his impeccable music taste. Not even a dog. “And Dennis DeYoung? A punk.”

“Dennis DeYoung’s not a punk.” Dean argued with the canine. “He’s Mr. Roboto, bitch.”

“Why are you arguing with the dog about Styx?” You asked him, becoming confused yourself at the one-sided conversation you were only able to hear.

Dean realized that you and Sam couldn’t hear the Colonel’s thoughts like he could. The man was having a full conversation with the mutt. “Wh—uh, yeah. Um, hey, boy.” Dean veered the conversation to the reason why he did the spell in the first place. “What were you trying to tell us about the cowboy hat?”

“The douche wheel who killed my best friend was wearing a cowboy hat.” The Colonel said. Dean wondered about the kid who was working at the shelter the night he was murdered. He was communicating with a dog. The man wasn’t sure if this was the weirdest thing he had ever done for a hunt. It was well up there. “Yep. Same guy killed both.”

“Ask about the cats.” Sam said, throwing his dirty rolled up napkins into the trash.

“Yeah, uh—” Dean was about to do that. But for some reason he was distracted by the ball Sam had thrown. He was overwhelmed with the urge to grab it from the trash can and placed it on the table. “And what about the cats?”

Sam picked up the napkin his brother fetched, unsure of why the man did it in the first place. “I don’t want this.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see much.” The Colonel said. Sam rolled up the napkin even more and tossed it once again into the trash hoping where it would stay there. “I didn’t exactly have the best view in the orphanage. Oh, but I could smell him. Guy reeked of red meat, dishwashing detergent and Tiger Balm.”

“So what’s he saying?” You asked the older man.

“Uh, that the—” Dean once again automatically reached for the napkin when he saw it be thrown across the table and into the trash. He tossed it back down on the table to Sam and went on with what he learned from the Colonel. “The guy smelled like ground chuck, and soap suds and old-lady cream.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked. Once again he picked up the napkin he tried to discard twice now, only to fail after his brother picked it up like it was some kind of ball.

You noticed Dean was scratching behind his ear without much thought, like it was second nature. He shrugged his shoulders at his own behavior. “I don’t know.” He said. It seemed he wasn’t even aware of his strange actions that weren’t like him. The Colonel found it amusing when he titled his head and started laughing. Dean didn’t find it the least bit funny. “Oh, what are you laughing at?”

The Colonel was about to break the news to the man, until his ears picked up something that sounded like a car door sliding shut. He knew that noise. Suddenly he started barking like how he had at the shelter. Instead this time it was for an enemy all dogs shared. The expression that crossed Dean’s face was laser focused. He had the overwhelming urge to jump out of his seat and head straight to the window, and that’s exactly what he did. You felt your mouth part open in complete shock as the Colonel joined him, the dog jumped onto his hind legs as he peeked through the curtains to spot the mailman. Dean started banging his hand against the window as the Colonel continued barking upscenely, both trying to appear threatening to the stranger.

“Hey! Hey, hey! Yeah!” Dean shouted at the mailman just trying to do his job, only to be stopped by a grown man who was desperately trying to get his attention. For some reason the man pointed a finger at the stranger and shouted words at him, like he was trying to get his attention and seem threatening. “You! You!” The Colonel continued to bark as Dean did the same with his own words. “Hey, hey! You! You! You!”

Dean repeated after himself several more times until he saw the mailman go on his way, brushing off the man’s odd behavior. He felt himself let out a growl in frustration. “Hey! Stop that!” You were giving the command to the Colonel in an attempt to get him to try and behave, little did you think it would have the same effect on Dean. “Come on. Sit down.”

The Colonel did as he was told. He stopped barking and made his way back over to you where he dropped down to your feet. Dean followed just a second after. You smiled at how well the Colonel followed commands, it earned him another scratch under the chin you noticed how much he enjoyed. Dean found himself growing annoyed from the thought he was able to hear about how the Colonel could get used to this kind of treatment from you.

“Hey, hey. Don’t get cozy, pal.” Dean grumbled to the dog. “She’s my female, not yours.”

You suddenly stopped what you were doing at the words that came out of Dean’s mouth. You turned your head to “I’m your what?” You asked, not sure if you should be weirded out or start laughing. It took you a second to realize what was going on when you saw Dean scratching behind his ear. Playing fetch. Barking at the mailman. You felt your lips stretch into an amused smile. “I think the spell worked. In fact, I think it worked a little too well.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“I think…you might be a dog.” Sam broke the news to his brother, trying his hardest not to laugh himself at the irony of the situation. The older Winchester was slowly becoming something he hated. Dean didn’t understand what the both of you were trying to get at, despite seeing the evidence. “You’re scratching your head. You’re barking at the mailman. You’re playing fetch.”

Dean opened his mouth and tried to deny the claim that sounded absurd to him. However the man was faced with the reality of the situation when Sam threw the napkin into the trash and for the third time Dean tried to grab it. He managed to stop himself when he realized what he was about to do. The urge to continue playing this game was strong, but Dean managed to refrain himself. He found himself letting out a low whimper. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t play, or it was the fact that he had the urges of a canine.

“Ruh-roh.”

\+ + +

You had to admit at first you found Dean acting like a dog a bit funny. From playing fetch with his brother by accident to him subconsciously scratch behind his ear when neither you or Sam were paying much attention. It stopped being funny when he started getting clingy. Dean wasn’t much of an affectionate person on the surface. His actions spoke louder than his words. And his actions were showing you that he didn’t want to leave your side. You had to push him away several times when he was overwhelmed with the urge to sniff you like a bloodhound. He complimented you by saying that you smelled nice—like fresh fruit from your shampoo you used this morning, the hamburger you had for lunch, and chocolate from the bar you snuck in your bag. You could have done without knowing what you reeked of.

What pushed you over the edge was when he tried sitting in your lap after moving from the table to the edge of the motel bed. He needed to follow you wherever you went. He claimed it was an accident. You were about to yell at him to stay away from you, but the look in his eye—that stupid puppy dog pout, made you roll your eyes in frustration and compromise with the man. He was sitting right next to you with your shoulders bumping against one another. You swore he chuckled to himself when you gave him and whispered a thank you to the damn dog. You swore the Colonel taught him a trick on ways to get you to do what he wanted with a simple look. You refrained from making any remarks when you broke off a piece of chocolate and shoved a piece into your mouth.

“Yeah. No, that—okay. Alright. Thanks.” Sam finished his call up with Kevin after trying to find more out about the consequences of the spell his brother willingly decided to drink without thinking twice. You looked over at the man when you heard him end the conversation. “So, apparently, the inuit spell has some side effects.”

“Oh, well, that would have been nice to know before I downed it!” Dean grumbled in frustration at the situation at hand. “What kind of side effects?”

“When you mind meld with an animal, it’s…possible to start exhibiting some of its behavior.” Sam explained to his brother the bad news.

Dean turned his gaze over to the Colonel who sat right across from you, as if he had any answers that might help stiffen the blow of what the older Winchester put himself through. “Don’t look at me, hoss.” The dog said. “It ain’t my fault.”

“Well, how long am I gonna have the urge to…” Dean didn’t want to say it out loud, afraid how you and his brother were going to react. The Colonel didn’t miss a beat when he said exactly what the man was thinking. Dean chuckled in nervousness at hearing it out loud. He shook his head. “Oh, whoa. Hey. I don’t have the urge to sniff butts.”

“Yet.” The Colonel warned.

You nearly choked on the piece of candy you accidentally decided to swallow right when Dean decided to say the inappropriate sentence out loud. “What?” You didn’t know why you sounded so surprised from hearing the behavior. Dogs were notorious for their odd behavior when it came to their other fellow species. You slid down the bed to give the both of you a few inches apart, never breaking eye contact with him. “Do you really have the—”

“No!” Dean shouted. He was suddenly filled with embarrassment from the question you asked him. “Come on!”

“Well, Kevin doesn’t know how long it’ll last. It’s not like it’s an exact science, you know?” Sam gave his brother more bad news. Dean reached out and ripped the candybar out of your hands. He needed a little pick-me-up for the situation he was in. “But hopefully, when the spell wears off, so will the side effects.”

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.” The Colonel warned him from doing something stupid. Dean froze in his spot with a piece of chocolate hanging between his lips, not seeming to understand what the big deal was. “Chocolate? Seriously.”

Dean let the piece of candy fall out from his mouth and drop back down to his lap before he could pull a stupid move. You shook your head and ripped the chocolate bar out from his hands. The three of you needed to figure out who was behind the cat-nappings and the two murders. You folded the candybar back up and threw it back into your bag for later. You got up from the bed and tried to get your jacket that was hanging off the back of the chair. All you could manage was taking a step before you were crashing into Dean. You let out a frustrated sigh when he was continuing the habit of following you.

“Good thing you’re cute.” You mumbled to him. You had to excuse his behavior from the way Dean was acting. He couldn’t help himself. But there was one line you didn’t want to cross. “If you start humping my leg, I’ll put you down myself.”

Dean swallowed and nodded his head in agreement. You clipped on the Colonel’s leash and followed behind the boys as all of you made your way out into the motel parking lot. Your time with the dog was nearing the end. But you had a possible theory that if Dean was acting like a canine, maybe he could communicate with others. There were several animals at the shelter who witnessed the crime. It was worth a shot. You had no possible leads other than the killer liked to wear a cowboy hat.

“Where are we headed?” The Colonel asked out of curiosity.

“Back to the shelter.” Dean informed him.

“To sniff out more clues,” The dog wondered. “maybe dig up something we missed?”

“All right, one more doggy pun out of you, and I’m gonna have your nuts clipped.” Dean warned the dog of a punishment.

“I hate to break it to you, hoss.” The Colonel broke the news to Dean about the operation his owner had done when he was still a mere puppy. “My sacks’ emptier than Santa’s after Christmas.”

As if today couldn’t get any worse Dean watched as the Impala’s windshield became dirty from a white blob that fell out from the sky. Some bird just pooped on his ride. And he cleaned Baby right before the hunt. “Aw, are you kidding me?” He grumbled. Dean looked to see it was a pigeon who was to blame. It sat on top of a street lamp with perfect range to drop another load on the Impala. “Hey, dick move, pigeon!”

“Screw you, asshat.”

“Did—” Dean thought he was only able to communicate with the Colonel. It came as a shock when the pigeon talked back to him. You and Sam were finding all of this amusing from an outsider’s perspective, having no clue the discovery Dean made. He looked down at the Colonel for some kind of answers. “Wait a minute. Can I hear all animals?”

“Yep. Animals have a universal language—like esperanto.” He said. “But this one actually caught on.”

“And I’m just getting started, too.” The pigeon said. “Brewing a real big one. Ha! Bet your ride’s gonna look sweet in white.”

“What’s he saying?” You asked, looking up at the pigeon.

“You—he’s being a douchebag!” Dean shouted in annoyance. 

“Who are you calling ‘douchebag,’ douchebag?” The pigeon mocked back at the man.

“Oh, shut it, you winged rat!” The older Winchester yelled. 

“Hey. Calm down.” You whispered to him, chuckling nervously to yourself when you saw a few people notice the strange behavior Dean was showing. It appeared to be the man was having a one-sided conversation with the pigeon that couldn’t talk back. “Just get in the car.”

“Ha, ha. That’s right, Sally.” The pigeon taunted, thinking he won the fight against the human with the last word. “Go cry to Mama.”

“Oh, that’s it, you son of a bitch!”

Dean whipped out his gun and pointed it up at the bird, ready to shoot the damn thing out of the sky. Before he could do something stupid and get all of you arrested, you managed to grab him by the arm and pinned it back down to his side. “That’s enough!” You hissed at him. “Stop acting like a damn fool and get your ass in the car!”

You shoved him towards the backseat where you put the Colonel in as Sam awkwardly waved at a few bystanders who witnessed the whole ordeal. You rolled your eyes in frustration and got into the passenger side, letting Dean’s punishment be to sit with the dog since he wanted to act like one.

\+ + +

The ride to the shelter was an interesting one at that. Dean insisted on having all the windows rolled down to let in some fresh air. However you noticed it for another reason when both Dean and the Colonel stuck their heads out to enjoy the breeze. You tried your hardest to stifle a laugh you felt coming on from seeing the joy on Dean’s face of feeling the breeze against his face that caused an adorable grin. When you got to the shelter and the Impala came to a stop, Dean immediately broke out of his behavior when he figured out what he was doing.

“I think it’s probably best to just leave the Colonel in the car.” Sam suggested to his brother when he circled around and tried opening up the backseat door to let the dog out. Dean had a shift in behavior, as if he was taken back at the mere idea of letting poor Colonel be all on his own. “Well, all the windows are open.”

“You think we like that?” Dean asked him. You furrowed your brow slightly when you caught him using a plural noun from what he was talking about. “You think because the windows are open that that’s some sort of treat, huh? No, the dog’s coming in.”

You and Sam shared a look from the even more strange behavior Dean was exhibiting. The Colonel respected the hunter for understanding the desire to not be stuck in the car while humans did chores. They liked to go wherever their best friends went. Dean petted the canine before letting him out of the car to join the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and went on your way to the shelter. Dean followed behind with the Colonel right by his side like how he argued to have. The man found himself stopping when he caught sight of a view he couldn’t turn away from. You turned your head to see that Dean stopped for some reason with his gaze upon something that caused a glint in his eyes you weren’t all too happy with. You’ve seen it before when he caught sight of a pretty face that wasn’t yours before the both of you got together. You followed his gaze until you saw what he was staring at. You let out a heavy sigh from how weird this was getting.

Dean and the Colonel gawked at a poodle tied up across the street to a bike rack. She was a pretty dog from how well groomed she was and her pink accessories her owner dolled her up with. Both dogs were infatuated with the bitch. 

“Dean!” You hissed at the man, forcing him back into reality. He stopped ogling at the poodle and looked over to you to see that you weren’t the least bit amused. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow, not sure if you wanted an explanation for all of this. You chalked it up to the spell that was changing his inhibitions. “You know, I’m not opposed to getting your balls clipped.” 

Dean understood the underlying threat you were hinting at without needing to hear more from you. He followed right behind you with the Colonel right by his side. All of you headed into the shelter in some kind of hope Dean might be able to use this spell for good and figure out who the man was in the cowboy hat.

\+ + +

“So, what can you tell me about the man with the cowboy hat?” 

You had to be honest, at the beginning of this plan you were excited for the chance to go around each kennel so Dean could personally speak to the dogs and get a potential eyewitness of what happened the previous night. Your enthusiasm slowly trickled away when you realized how this was turning out to be a complete waste of time. All though you could only hear one side of the conversation, the homeless pups were turning out to be less helpful than the Colonel had been for you. You watched from the other side of the shelter as Dean questioned another dog that looked almost to be the exact same breed as the famous Lassie. However she wasn’t capable of much of anything due to her fleeting eyesight due to her old age. Dean listened anyway.

“Honestly, I couldn’t see much. Damn cataracts. And you know no one is going to pay for my surgery. Just another casualty of the system, I guess.” The dog followed up her story with a complaint about how her final days would be spent in a cage. Dean offered a sympathetic smile from the lonely end she was most likely going to face. Almost no one adopts older dogs. The man felt it was time to cut the conversation short when she tried to guilt him into taking her home. “I don’t belong here, you know. I’m Pedigreed.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be out of here soon.” Dean tried to offer some hopeful words to the dog that better days were ahead for her. She shot him down when she told him her age of fourteen. In human years she was in her seventies. She didn’t have much time left on this Earth. He winced at the awkward situation he put himself in. “Good luck…ma’am.” 

Dean shut the cage and placed the latch back down so she couldn’t try and escape. As he passed by a labrador, he overheard the rough conditions they were living in. “One a day they clean these cages. Once a day!”

“A biscuit. Just one biscuit.” 

“I need a Raquel Welch poster and a rock hammer.” 

“I’m shaking the fence, boss. Still shaking the fence.” 

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when he took the spell that would make him be able to communicate with the Colonel. He didn’t think it was going to lead him into being able to speak to every single animal that would end up in him getting mocked by a pigeon and hearing the complaints from the dogs living in the shelter. He let out a quiet sigh from how overwhelming it was to hear all their voices ringing in his head for different reasons that all varied out to the same reason. They wanted to get his attention for a chance at going home with him. You gave him a curious expression as he approached you and Sam after trying to speak to another dog.

“Any luck?” Sam asked his brother, hopeful for some kind of breakthrough. 

“Hardly.” Dean admitted. “And I’m not just getting any clues—just a bunch of complaints.” 

“Hey, pretty boy.” The older Winchester might have spoken too soon when he heard another voice pop up into his head, making him look over his shoulder to see who was speaking to him. A small yorkie jumped on his hind legs and leaned himself against the fence to try and get the hunter’s attention. “Over here.” 

“Yeah, sorry, pal.” Dean said, shrugging off the dog for whatever excuse he was about to try and throw his way to get him over there and chat his ear off. The man thought he already knew what was going to happen if he wasted more time on yet another dog. “I’m done for the day.” 

“But I saw everything!” The dog shouted, saying exactly what the hunter wanted to hear. It was enough for Dean to make his way over the kennel. You and Sam followed behind, figuring this was the lead all of you had been looking for. “And I’ll tell you, but…it’ll cost you.” 

“What? Are you kidding me? I’m being extorted by a dog.” The older Winchester scoffed at the sudden shift of the conversation. No one else had given him much help. This was the only major lead you had going for you. Dean rolled his eyes and unwillingly gave in to listening to whatever the dog might try and bribe out of him. “Well, what do you want, huh? What? Beggin’ Strips? Snausages?”

“Bitch, please. If I’m gonna rat someone out, it’s got to be worth my while. I want…a belly rub.” The dog gave his final demands to make him speak. Dean once again rolled his eyes at the presumption that it was going to be him who was going to be forced to do the deed. However the yorkie wouldn’t let just anyone come near him. “Not you, sweetie. The short one.” 

“The…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean grumbled underneath his breath when he turned his direction to the short person he was talking about. You were standing next to him, wondering what was making him grow annoyed now. “He wants a belly rub. From you.” Dean informed you of the pooch’s request. You felt your lips stretch into a happy smile. As if this hunt couldn’t get any better. “Get to it. You’re like some kind of dog whisperer.” 

You pushed up the latch to the cage and opened up the metal door to greet the yorkie with a big smile at how happy he was from the way his tail was wagging. “Hi there, cutie. You wanna belly rub, huh? Come here.”

The dog wanted his end of the bargain before giving any sort of information about that night to Dean. You started off enjoying giving the pooch what he wanted. He was cradled in your arms like a baby as you scratched his stomach like he requested. His tongue poked out from the side of his mouth as he panted in enjoyment from the rare affection he was being given after spending most hours locked in the small confidments. The human side of Dean was growing annoyed at how much this mutt was trying to milk this bribe for his own benefit. And the canine side of him was growing territorial at how much you were giving someone else affection. 

“Ohh, a cowboy hat, leather pants.” The dog managed to give a basic description of the man of what he was wearing on the night of the murder, occasionally breaking his concentration from the bellyrub long enough to do so. “The dude’s a total closet case.”

“Okay, what else can you tell me about the guy other than his outfit?” Dean pressed for more, knowing that it was useless to the three of you. 

“What does he want with the cats?” Dean asked. 

“Ooh, attagirl, yes.” The dog was once again delayed on responding to the question, too caught up in the euphoric feeling. “Hell if I know. But he took all of them, except for the one he ate.”

“Ew.” Dean mumbled to himself from the twist he wasn’t expecting to come from the story. You momentarily stopped scratching the dog to hear what made the man reaction that way. It was for a reason you never would have guessed “Apparently, our guy has a sweet tooth for kitty cats.”

You felt your lips stretching into a childlike smile from the information, feeling the need to crack a joke. “So you’re saying he likes to eat p—”

“Keep scratching.” Dean told you, cutting you off from making a distasteful joke.

“Oh. Oh, and the sack had something written on it.” The yorkie added, giving some information that might help make it easier to track down the man. 

“Okay, what did it say?” Dean asked. The dog decided at that moment to go silent. He went limp in your arms as he let out a yawn, acting as if it was Dean who was wasting his time. “Hey, come on. We had a deal.”

“Well, you tell that to your friend.” The dog said “She’s the one who stopped rubbing.” 

You rolled your eyes when Dean tossed you a look to keep going with the deal he made with the dog. You could only do this for so long before you complained of a hand cramp. Not to mention he was starting to make your arm grow numb for holding him in the same position for a long period of time. Dean didn’t seem to care for your complaints. 

“He’s not talking.” The older Winchester said. 

“I’m sorry, do you want to do it?” You asked him, nodding your head to the needy dog. 

“You’re the one who volunteered.” Dean reminded you. “Very happily.”

You let out a quiet sigh and continued on with your end of the deal. The dog’s tongue poked out of his mouth in happiness.“Attagirl. It said ‘Avant-Garde Cuisine.’” He continued on. “Lucky for you, I read French.”

“That’s a café on Main Street.” The Colonel said, jumping into the conversation to lend a helping paw. “No dogs allowed.”

“Well, no wonder he smelled like hamburgers and dish soap.” Dean mumbled, seeming to be still talking amongst the dogs. You raised your brow slightly, wondering if he found a possible lead afterall. “We got to go downtown. Apparently our guy works at a restaurant.”

Dean nodded his head to put the yorkie back into his cage after getting the information you needed from him. “No, no, wait, wait, wait. Sure you don’t want to adopt me?”

“No, thanks.” The older man shot down the offer with a smile. “We’ll pass.”

You bent down to grab the Colonel’s lesh with your good hand as you tried to stop the cramping in the other. While the little yorkie was a pain, you had to admit it was sort of fun spending some time with the pooch. Even if he was a pain. 

“It’s kind of sad, don’t you think?” You wondered out loud, looking around at the kennels filled with dogs you would have loved to adopt. Sadly not all of them might get a chance. “All these poor things might never get a proper home. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life in a cage.”

Dean found himself reflecting on what you said for a moment. He didn’t like dogs. Hell, he wasn’t the one for pets. But being able to hear their thoughts and struggles they faced, spending some time walking in their point of view, gave him a better perspective. Every creature, human or animal, deserved a loving home. He felt his lips stretch into a smile from what he was about to do. He knew it would make you happy. Maybe this spell wasn’t such a curse after all. 

You and Sam were left baffled at what the man was doing when he went to every kennel and opened up the cage doors to let the dogs free. A scurry of four legged animals went running past you and straight out the door. You might not have been able to hear the excitement of their freedom, but you could tell from how they raced out of here. Dean was pleased with himself at the little act of kindness. 

“I didn’t peg you for a softy.” The Colonel said. 

Dean merely shrugged his shoulders as his response for the German Shepherd. There were a lot of things that were out of character for him today. He spent his entire life saving humans. It felt like a good change of pace to lend a helping hand to man’s best friend for a change. 

\+ + +

It wasn’t too hard for you and the boys to track down the restaurant of the crazy lunatic who murdered two people and catnapped all of the shelter’s felines for reasons you still weren’t sure of. Sam was the one who picked the lock of the back door and headed inside first, you and Dean following after. You wondered the reason why the place was closed when you were still in the early evening, it should have been booming with business. A closed sign wasn’t going to stop you and the boys from breaking into the place and taking a look around for yourself. It was going to be easier knowing there would be no lingering eyes to disrupt you. 

“I’m sorry. Who can afford to be closed on a Monday these days?” Dean wondered out loud.

“Homicidal maniac?” You guessed.

Sam brought your attention over to a door that was marked private. after passing a few unmarked ones. All of you stepped inside and began taking a look around through the scope of the small flashlight you pulled out. You noticed it must’ve been extra storage for the restaurant from the walk-in freezer you spotted across the room and shelves filled with different canned goods and spices and doubled as an office space for the staff. The younger Winchester approached a desk that was near the door and spotted a framed photograph of a man that was dressed in a chef’s uniform with a cowboy hat as an accessory. He smiled for the camera while sharpening a knife. It was oddy suspicious at first glance, but it didn’t exactly scream psycho killer to you. 

“Check this out.” Sam said. He pulled your attention away from exploring more of the room and to the picture he found. You furrowed your brow slightly at the potential suspect you might have. “Chef Leo. Think he’s our guy?”

Dean shrugged at the coincidence, “It’s Okie town. Lots of dudes wear cowboy hats." 

Sam decided to stick around the desk when he pulled up a chair and began rifling through some papers and drawers to see if he might be able to find anything suspicious about this Chef Leo. Dean continued on walking through the place as you stuck around to help Sam to cut down the process faster. You flipped through a folder full of important documents for the restaurant that ended up being meaningless to you and dropped them back down where you found them. You pulled out one of the drawers out of curiosity and stumbled upon a little pharmacy Chef Leo had kept for himself.

“Whoa.” You mumbled to yourself. You counted at least eight prescription bottles in the drawer that were all for him. You bent down slightly to get a better look at the drugs to see what he was taking. "Oxycodone, tramadol, methadone. Jeez. Guess he likes to cook perfectly numb.” 

"Help us." 

"Please, mister.”

Dean found himself stopping in his tracks when he heard the sound of high-pitched voices coming out of nowhere. He looked around to see where they might have come from, but the only people around were still you and Sam, who were busy looking deeper into Chef Leo’s desk. He kept on trying to find the source of the voices when they talked to him again, trying to get him to find them. 

“Did you hear that?” Dean asked, curious if he was the only one. You glanced up and gave the man a confused look as to what he was talking about. You shook your head before continuing on your search. “Sounded like little kids.” 

“Help!” The voice called out again, close enough for Dean to stop again and point his flashlight at a table that was holding something that was hidden behind an apron. “If you don’t free us, the chef will eat us." 

“She’s not lying.”

“We’re in a cage!”

Dean managed to find the source of the distressed voices when he pulled off the apron and saw a small cage big enough to be holding a few mice that were unhappily crawling around in their mental confidements. He bent down slightly so he was at somewhat eye level with the rodents so he could speak to them properly. "Eat you?”

One of the rats told him to look in the refrigerator behind him to discover what else the chef was hiding. He did as he was told, making Dean stumble upon several tupperware containers stacked on top of one another with labels of unusual ingredients he had a feeling weren’t on the menu. You wandered over in curiosity to discover what Dean had found while Sam found something suspicious on his own. You glanced inside the see through door to see the chef was stocked on animal organs of all kinds. 

“‘Owl brains.’ 'Cheetah liver.’ 'Grizzly heart.’” Dean listed off just a few of the strange organs that made you grimace as the possible reason why the chef needed these ingredients. And how he managed to acquire such an array of organs for such a diverse palate. 

“Ah, a spell book.” Sam said. He figured out what kind of book he had been reading through, and why the chef has so many organs on hand. “Shamanism." 

"What’s a chef doing dabbling with witchcraft?” You asked.

“It says here whatever animal organ you ingest with the right mix of hoo doo and spices, you temporarily gain the power of that animal.” Sam read off some information from the book to help explain what was going on here. Your nose wrinkled slightly as you looked back over at the fridge. The thought of ingesting any of those organs made you feel slightly queasy. “So, okay, if you’re munching on owl brains…”

“Your head spins around like ‘The Exorcist’?” Dean wondered, deciding to take a wild guess.

“Close. Bolsters your IQ.” Sam said. He turned his attention back over to the book and began to read through the effects of the organs you and his brother discovered. “Okay, eat a cheetah liver for speed, bear heart for strength.”

"Okay, so if he’s chowing down on this stuff—” 

"Then it would make sense why he constricted the taxidermist and clawed the guy at the shelter.” Sam said, finishing his brother’s thought. 

“Well, no offense,” Dean turned his gaze back over to the cage with the mice. They were bottom of the food chain compared to the other animals Chef Leo had on stock. “But why would he want to eat you guys?”

“Uh, we have collapsible spines.” The rodent said. 

“Look at this.” Sam said. He found several index cards with what appeared to be some kind of recipe with the organs the chef harvested. You grabbed a few from the pile to flip through them yourself. “'Lion liver plus eagle heart.’ 'Rattlesnake fangs plus anaconda bladder.’ 'Baboon brains plus black widow abdomen.’ He’s mixing ingredients." 

“What the hell for?” 

Dean’s question went unanswered when the focus in the room went straight for the closed door after hearing what sounded to be metal crashing to the ground. You tossed the cards back to the desk as Sam turned off the small lamp. The rodents were spooked as well from the noise as they began to argue amongst each other. 

“Shoo! Quiet!”

"Don’t shush me! You be quiet!" 

"I am quiet. Now." 

You and the boys headed for the door with your guns dawn, unsure of who might be out there. It might have been the chef back for a snack. You followed behind as Dean opened up the door and swiftly stepped outside to the hall, taking a quick glance around before you and his brother joined him. There was no one around the hall you came down, but there were echoes coming from the kitchen. All of you slowly headed there, expecting the man you heard so much about. Instead Dean found himself lowering his gun and hiding it quickly as he could when he spotted an unfamiliar face at work. It took no time at all for the chef to look up from what he was doing and to the three strangers disrupting him.

"Who the hell are you?” The man asked in a slightly frustrated tone of voice. He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting impatiently for your answer.

“We’re from the health department.” Sam explained to him, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Stopped by for an inspection." 

"I wasn’t aware we had one scheduled.” He said. 

“Yeah, no, you wouldn’t be. That’s the point.” Dean replied, continuing off with the lie his brother made up on the spot. “Besides, I thought you were closed." 

"We are. Chef’s having a private dinner.” The man explained to all of you. One of the waiters working tonight pushed open the swinging doors to the dining area and walked in, only to stumble upon the confusing sight that was unraveling. “In fact, he’ll be here any minute," 

"Oh. Well, then. In that case, the kitchen’s shut down.” You declared. The chef’s expression dropped at hearing the news. Clearly he demanded answers as to the sudden dramatic information without a proper warning. “Because you’re both in clear violation of penal code 8.14. And what’s that? Mice. You people have mice. You call yourself fine dining. The only thing people here are getting served is mice droppings." 

"Out. Come on. Get out.” Dean instructed the two men, waving for the swinging door the waiter came in from. All though they weren’t exactly happy about the change in plans, there was little fuss. “Both of you. We’ll let you know." 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched the two men inform the guest about the change in plans for the evening. While they didn’t appear to be pleased at the ruined evening, everyone scurried off the property in the matter of seconds. "All right.” You directed your gaze back to the older Winchester when he devised a plan. “I’ll take the front. You and Sam take the back." 

“Do we even know how to kill this guy?” You asked, wondering if you were going into this situation with the wrong weapon. You hoped this wasn’t going to be like poking the bear with a stick and getting mauled to death like the other victims.

"Well, empty one of these in his head.” Dean suggested, gesturing the gun he pulled back out after the staff left. “See what that does.”

You let out a faint sigh as you watched Dean make his way to the front of the restaurant as Sam continued searching through the rest of the kitchen, leaving you alone. This wasn’t the first time you were going up against someone with strange abilities and an unsure way of how to take them down. You found yourself turning back on your heels to the hallway you came from when the sound of metal clanking wandered through the air again. You positioned your gun in front of you as you quietly followed the noise from where it came from. 

You began making your way down the hallway again to see where the noise was coming from. All though you were cautious and on high alert, when you reached the end of the hallway, something still didn’t sit right with you. You learned to trust your gut instinct when it kicked in. And right about now it was telling you something was wrong. You turned around to see that you weren’t alone anymore. Chef Leo stood in front of you after appearing out of thin air. Whatever he had taken made him be able to blend into his surroundings and get the jump on you. You had no time to react at all from what he did to you next. 

You felt a sudden sharp pain like claws dig into your neck scratching the skin deep enough for you to realize that it wasn’t a simple scratch. You pressed your hand to the side of your neck when you felt blood starting to pour out from the wound at a fast rate. The son of a bitch slashed your throat. You had little time to react before you bled to death on the floor. You tried to steady yourself as you made your way down the hall, keeping as much blood in your body as you could. Chef Leo watched on as you struggled to stop yourself from falling down, he found it all amusing in a twisted way. 

“Chameleons aren’t all that bad.” He said, a hint of humor in his voice. “Kind of tastes like chicken." 

You struggled to get your feet moving again when you finally pushed yourself off the wall you had been leaning on. The logical part of your brain was yelling at you to get moving before it was too late. You already lost enough blood from just standing here trying to get your head on straight. There was no way you could scream for help, but you might be able to find Dean if you moved fast enough. You tried to get your vision from going blurry as you managed to take a few steps. With each passing second you felt your body starting to grow weaker as you struggled to breathe on your own. 

You dealt with severe blood loss before, you knew the way your body was reacting. You forced yourself to try and keep going, despite your breathing turning heavier and your sight growing weaker with your body. You felt yourself starting to lose consciousness as your fight was slowly dwindling to the end. Right as you were on the edge of death, someone pulled you back from taking the plunge. 

Ezekial, the angel who had been hiding himself quietly in your body over the past several weeks, needed you alive. He preferred to keep his meddling to a minimum. Most of the time he was lured out from hiding by Dean due to some situation he put himself in that needed his help. He felt you slowly choking on your own blood from the slashes you endured on your neck. A simple touch to the wound when he took control healed your wound in the matter of seconds before he vanished quickly as he came. You were left gasping for air, and finding it was easy to do so. 

You felt something sticky and warm covering the hand that was wrapped tightly around your neck. That was it. No excruciating pain. No gasping for breath. You felt…normal. You quickly felt around the skin for some kind of indication that the slashes on your throat were still there. But there was nothing. Your brows furrowed together in confusion as you turned around to face Chef Leo, who appeared to be perfectly normal. Not a drop of blood was on him. You were covered in your own blood. But not a single scratch was on your body. The man stared at you with bewilderment at what you did in front of him.

“How the hell did you do that?” He questioned you. 

“Do what?” You asked him, sounding confused as he was.

"Don’t play coy with me.” He snapped at you. “I want to know what you are.”

“Buddy, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” You shot back at him, trying to turn your anxiety into anger. Despite the fact that you were without a weapon, you knew you could defend yourself against him. But your mind was still stuck on the fact that you were miraculously healed after he clawed your throat. 

“Oh, screw the sharktopus." Chef Leo muttered to himself. Your focus finally went back to the psychopath standing in front of you, and before you had a chance to get yourself out of the situation you landed yourself in, he was faster. All it took was a swift punch for you to fall to the ground unconscious. ”You’re my main course.“

\+ + +

It’s sort of funny how things seem to work out on their own. Chef Leo presumed you and the other man who discovered you only moments later were the only ones here. It took almost no effort at all to drag you both back into the kitchen. You laid on the floor and your friend tied up somewhere in the corner where Leo could keep an eye on him whenever he decided to come back into consciousness. He decided to dispose of the man later. Right now all he cared about was carving you open like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Years of culinary training and working in the restaurant industry taught Leo how to get creative when it came to cooking unusual animal organs. Most of them weren’t half bad if he was being honest with himself. Where the trouble came up was trying to find them. What Leo couldn’t get in the local shelter or in the scraps of the taxidermist was bought on another source. The internet was a marvelous place to find even the rarest of animal organs he couldn’t locally source. However what Leo was about to do was a step he thought he would never take after discovering what he did. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Human flesh wasn’t something a sane individual thought about taking a bite of. The thought of it alone should be revolting. But there was a slight morbid curiosity as to what it really tasted like. He heard a few reports from cannibals over the years of what long pig tasted like to them. Every answer was different. Some thought it was similar to beef, others claimed it was exactly like pork. More suggested it was tough and close to veal. Leo was about to find out for himself when he carved your heart out of your chest. Whatever it was going to be, he could get past the taste if it meant he was able to possess the abilities you were capable of. Healing powers? It could solve his problems and more. He could live on. Maybe he could become immortal.

A shift in the smell caused Leo to momentarily stop sharpening his knife and pause. He sniffed a few times only to grimace at the unpleasant stench. “Why does it smell like dog in here?” He asked himself. Turning around, he found the source in another stranger trying to disrupt his plans and yet another loaded gun pointed in his direction. “That smell’s coming from you." 

Dean pulled the trigger without thinking twice about it when he had the man in his range, but not taking into conversation what Chef Leo had taken prior. Cheetahs were the fastest animals in the world. The liver he ate was enough to give him the momentum to lean out of fire and grab a meat cleaver that was near him. All though his aim was off, it was enough of a startling distraction for Leo to get the upper hand when Dean was momentarily caught off guard. The gun Dean was holding only seconds ago was knocked out of his hand as he found himself stumbling to his knees after Leo was able to punch him. The man was moving faster than the hunter was able to keep up with.

Leo grabbed a cord he found lying around and grabbed it. He quickly placed it around Dean’s neck and pinned him against the pillar, momentarily cutting off his air supply. “All dogs should be leashed.” He mocked the hunter. 

Dean struggled to overpower Leo when he took the cord off his neck and used it to lie his hands behind his back. The older Winchester was able to see his brother had landed himself in the same predicament. But a sense of panic washed over him when he saw that you were across the kitchen lying on your backside and not moving a single inch. For a moment he thought you might already be dead. He could smell the blood in the air, making him fear the worst. 

“What did you do to them?” Dean questioned the man. “What did you do to my brother?

"Your brother? Huh. There’s nothing special about him that I could tell, at least. But your friend? I gotta ask, what were your parents smoking when they had you?” Leo asked the man, cracking a smile when Dean answered with a deathly glare. “They’re fine. They’re just taking a little cat nap before dinner. I’ve never had human heart before. Heard it’s a bit chewy. Good job I’m not a fussy eater.”

Dean found something off about the man when we got close enough to him, a smell lingered off that didn’t seem right. While Leo got back up to his feet and to sharpen his knife again, the older WInchester told the man about something he might not have known yet. “You’re sick.”

Leo chuckled to himself at the observation, “Been told that once or twice.”

“No, no. Not in the head. Well, you are that, too.” Dean agreed with that part, considering the steps Leo had done in order to gather his unusual ingredients. “But I mean sick like cancer.”

“Well, I guess dogs really can sniff it out.” Leo muttered to himself. He set down the knife back to the counter and turned around to face the man once more, knowing it was useless to hide his secret from the one person who could simply smell it on him. “Stage four carcinoma." 

"Huh. So that’s what you’re doing.” Dean said. He watched as Leo walked over to a shelf and began inspecting ingredients that might pair well with a human heart. It didn’t stop the hunter from pressuring further into the reason behind why the drastic desire to feast on animal organs for their abilities. “What happened? Draw the short straw, decide to break bad?”

“See, when I was diagnosed, I was way past standard treatment. No one could save me.” Leo told the story about his discoveries you stumbled upon earlier tonight and the trick to beating cancer, even for a short time. Dean used the opportunity to try and cut through the wires by rubbing them up and down the corner of the wall as Leo continued to stand with his backside to the man. “But then with the help of a Pawnee shaman and a zoo membership, I found a cure, albeit a temporary one. Cancer always comes back.”

“You start experimenting with different organs, huh?” Dean took a wild guess at how all of this played out and ended with him here. “Traded in the single serving for a combo platter.”

“Well, what can I say? Combination therapy works.” Leo said. “I felt stronger, and the effects lasted longer.”

“And if you smoke a few innocent people in the process, well, hell, at least you felt better.” Dean pretended to agree with the man about his selfish decisions that cost the lives of two people. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to kill anyone—at first. But if people got in my way, they became collateral damage.” Leo tried to sound innocent, until his own narcissism crept through into his tone at the power he held over others. He’d been too blinded by his own selfishness to stay alive; he dismissed the consequences that might be inflicted on others to get what he wanted. And in that newley large head of his, all of it was perfectly fine at the end of it all if it meant he got what he wanted. “Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one. You are what you eat, right?”

Leo chuckled to himself at the corny joke and went back to prepping the ingredients. Dean worked faster to try and cut himself free before something bad happened. He continued talking, trying to distract the man so he could make his escape. "And you really think the power you hold over people’s lives can make up for what you lack in your own?”

Dean always had a knack for getting under people’s skin by saying things exactly what they didn’t want to hear. Leo was a selfish bastard who did anything to keep himself alive. The man dropped the knife he was using to the cutting board and turned around to face the hunter. A sour look crossed the chef’s face, the kind Dean was all too familiar with. “So, dog boy, what do I need to eat to take you down, huh?”

Leo headed over to his personal stash of animal organs he kept conveniently in a cooler. He crouched down and began searching for the perfect ingredients to end the man’s life. “You don’t want to do this.” Dean warned him. 

“Oh, but I do want to do this. See, I’m gonna kill you and your brother, work up a nice appetite, and then I’m gonna eat your friend.” Leo said. He laughed quietly to himself when he saw Dean quickly look over at his brother and to you. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell she is, but with healing powers like that, who cares? He could cure me.” Leo examined a few more containers before finding the one that felt perfect. The label on the clear container read wolf heart. “Dog on sort-of dog.”

Dean worked even faster when the man took out the wolf’s heart and began the familiar chant to the spell. He managed to cut through the cord in record time and jumped back up to his feet, grabbing the cleaver that was thrown at him earlier. Dean attempted to attack the man when he was distracted, but Leo managed to dodge, causing the hunter to drop the knife to the ground. Dean roughly shoved the other man to the ground, sparing him a few seconds as he quickly looked around to see if he might be able to find another weapon. Only when he looked to the chef he realized the spell had worked quickly when the man bared sharp canine teeth. 

Dean didn’t waste a second bolting out of the kitchen and through the hall, trying to distance himself from the psychopath before he could get himself or anyone else hurt. He found himself back outside with seconds to figure out how to take Leo down for good. A thought crossed his mind when the back door swung open. 

“Sorry.” Leo taunted the man. “Wolf trumps dog.” 

“Maybe.” Dean said. “But not a whole pack.” 

The good karma Dean had given to the dogs at the shetler was about to be returned in full. He whistled loud enough for the Colonel to come running only seconds later, along with all the others he freed earlier. When Leo realized the mutts were coming towards his direction, a panic set through him as he tried to find an escape. He tried to open the back door in which he came out with no success. The man was cornered with nowhere to go except to suffer the fate of his consequences. Dean watched on for a moment as the man was ripped apart by the mutts, his screams of pain fell on deaf ears. And when he knew for sure all of this was taken care of, Dean rushed back inside the restaurant, wanting to make sure you and his brother were all right. 

Dean tried not to panic when he saw the copious amount of dried blood on your neck and clothing with not a single scratch on your body. He crouched down to your level and tried to get you to wake up when he felt a pulse. You remained unconscious even when he cradled your head into his hands and moved you around slightly. 

“For the love of God, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart.” Dean could hear his voice tremor when you didn’t even flinch. He tried to somehow reach the angel that was quietly possessing your body, but all he got was nothing. You remained as you were. Dean began to softly slap your cheek to try and get you to come back around. “Hey. Come on.” He almost begged for you to snap out of it, not stopping until you opened your eyes. “Don’t make me lick your damn face.” 

Dean started shaking your entire body in a desperate attempt until he finally heard the sweet sound of you gasping for breath. You slowly opened your eyes as you started coming back into consciousness. A blurry sight of a worried Dean was the first thing you were greeted with. In true fashion, you weren’t sure what was going on, but the question that fell out of your mouth was about the well being of Sam when you didn’t see him. Dean couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips as he helped you up from the ground and the both of you tended to his brother.

\+ + + 

You always wanted to have a dog growing up. You even thought about getting one when you lived on your own, it might have made the loneliness a little easier. If the Colonel had somehow landed in your lap years ago before you started hunting you would have jumped on the chance to give him a good home. Dean’s ability to read his mind had given him extra points for the attachment you had grown on him. But with the lifestyle you lead it would have been impossible. And you couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him back to the pound. So, you thought of the next best thing. A couple of hippies who probably loved animals more than themselves.

“When you called us about adopting him, we couldn’t believe it.” Dylan made no effort to hide the smile on his face at the German Shepherd who was currently being overwhelmed with love from his wife, Olivia. 

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” She cooed at the dog.

“Ugh.” The Colonel grimaced as he tried to turn his head away from the lady. Dean chuckled to himself at the thoughts only he could hear. “Back off, tofu-breath.” 

“Oh, you must be starving.” Olivia said. “Lucky for you, I baked some vegan doggy cupcakes.” 

She jumped to her feet and went with her husband to the back of the kitchen to fetch those treats. You smiled to yourself at how happy they seemed. You looked down in the direction of the Colonel when you decided it was time for you and Dean to say your final goodbyes. All though you might not have been able to speak a single word to the mutt, there was a soft spot in your heart for him. It was those damn puppy dog eyes that won you over. 

“I’m gonna be pooping wheatgrass with these two.” The Colonel said.

“Look, I know they’re hippie freaks, but they’re gonna give you a good home—one that you deserve.” Dean reassured the dog about the future for him. He crouched down so he was at level with him to have one more proper conversation. In a way Dean felt bad himself for not being able to adopt the Colonel from the way you had grown attached to him. He would be lying if he said the mutt didn’t grow on him, too. “Wish we could take you on the road with us, but it’s no life for a dog.”

“Don’t sweat it. I get carsick anyway.” The Colonel responded. He would grow comfortable in his new home with time. You crouched down to the ground with Dean to say your final goodbyes to the dog as well. Before you could even get a word out, you were bombarded with dog kisses that were slobbery and wet. You let out a genuine laugh at how much the Colonel’s licks tickled your skin. “I’m gonna miss her the most. No offense, buddy.” 

“None taken.” Dean said. He watched for a moment as you seemed happy in that moment, the smile on your face was enough for him to feel some sort of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks. Even if in the back of his mind it would eventually fade once all of you hit the road. 

“I should probably mention this, but I barfed in your backseat.” The Colonel felt the need to slip in some last minute information as you momentarily distracted Dean from the way you were coddling the dog as if he were a small child. “I was afraid to tell you earlier.” 

“You…” Dean’s first reaction was to get angry at hearing the surprise that was waiting for him.

“Come on.” The Colonel managed to speak first when Dean trailed off. He felt the need to remind him of the bonding moment you were having. “Don’t ruin the moment.” 

Dean brushed it off with a chuckle. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” 

“I’ll miss you, too.” The Colonel offered his paw for Dean to shake as their final farewell. Along with one more thing. “And by the way, as an honorary dog, there’s something you should know. Dogs aren’t really man’s best friend.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but the real reason we were put here was to…” The Colonel was about to give the man a piece of information that would change his life forever, but all that Dean heard next was a series of barks. None of which he understood. 

“Put here to do what?” Dean asked the dog, suddenly needing to find out the answer. All the Colonel could do was bark in some kind of attempt to communicate with him. But it fell on your untrained ears. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Oh, now the spell wears off?!”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh at how things seemed to always work out. Part of him was glad that things would finally get back to normal, but there would always be another part that wondered what kind of information he would never know. Both of you said your final farewells to the Colonel before heading out to the parked Impala where Sam had been waiting for you. 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked.

“Well, bad news is that I’m gonna miss the flea bag. Good news is it looks like the spell is finally wearing off.” Dean informed his brother, catching him up to speed with what the both of you knew. You faintly listened to the conversation as you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced back over to the bakery. A look crossed your face that worried Dean. “You okay? The stetson man got you pretty good.”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I can’t stop thinking about what he said.” You chuckled to yourself at strange words you remembered him speaking to you before everything went black. You had told the boys when everything settled down. They had brushed it off as nothing, but for some reason you were still thinking about it. The entire situation didn’t make sense. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart.” Dean said. “Guy was out of his freaking gourd.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, why would he ask that?” You asked the boys, as if they had some sort of explanation to Leo’s strange behavior. “Why did he want to know what I was?” 

“Who the hell knows? He was all jacked up on juice, you know? He was possessed by something he couldn’t control. It was…It was just a matter of time before it completely took over.” Dean tried to find an explanation that would put this conversation to bed once and for all. You didn’t seem all that convinced from the way you kept staring at him. “You can’t reason with crazy, right?” 

You let out a faint sigh. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Trust me, Y/N. You got nothing to worry about.” 

At the moment all you could do was take Dean’s words at face value. You knew in the back of your mind that he was right. You were ordinary as the next person on the street. But you found yourself wondering one particular thing. How did you get covered in blood? Sam was perfectly fine without a scratch, and so was Dean. All of you were okay. Your fingers subconsciously scratched the side of your neck, the same spot you swore you remembered feeling claws dig into the skin and rip open. All that remained was smoothness, not a single scar. Maybe your head was still scrambled from the trials. That was the only thing that made sense to you. 

You loaded yourself up into the backseat of the Impala as the boys took their respectful spots like always. A comfortable routine that helped somewhat put your mind at ease. While Dean turned on the car and got ready to drive off, you found yourself smelling something that was slightly off. You sniffed the air a few more times as you grimaced at the foul smell that was almost coming out of nowhere.

“What’s that smell?” You asked. “It smells like…”

“Vomit?” Dean wondered. You nodded your head as you tried to find the source in the darkness of the night as he kept on driving. “The Colonel got sick. Watch your step.” 

"Oh, God. Ew.” You grumbled to yourself. You quickly rolled down the window to let the fresh breeze of the night clear some of the foul smell and help ease your mind. You let out a quiet sigh as you turned your head to watch as the bakery got smaller in the distance. If one positive thing came from this case, it was knowing you had placed a dog in a safe home. “Good thing that mutt is cute."


	6. Heaven Can't Wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, am I right?

Cas watched from the passenger side window as Nora’s house slowly pulled up into view. The knot in the pit of his stomach began to tighten at how time was slipping by quicker than he anticipated to the big moment. His very first date. At first he was unsure of the proper reason why his palms felt so sweaty and his stomach started to feel strange. It wasn’t quite queasy like the time he ate some bad food when he was homeless and was forced to survive off of scraps he found in the dumpster. But he didn’t quite feel up to his normal self. When he told you and Dean about his sudden symptoms, your shared reactions weren’t ones he was expected. The man rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion while you laughed it off. 

He didn’t understand what was so funny about what he said. Cas was genuinely worried there was something wrong with him, maybe he caught something from a customer and he only began to notice it now. He thought it was enough concern to cancel his date, in fear he might get Nora sick as well. She never missed a day of work since he started there. Humans were infamously notorious for catching all sorts of viruses and diseases. What he was feeling wasn't a stomach bug, it was something vastly different. Cas should've learned by now that emotions can change how a person feels psychically. 

"It's like butterflies in your stomach. You're excited, but you feel like you're about to pass out from nervousness." You explained almost perfectly about how Cas was feeling at the moment. "It's how I used to feel whenever Dean was around before we got together. When you're finding your feelings for someone, it gets...complicated.”

"But I'm not in love with Nora." Cas said. He started to grow even more confused at how truly complicated it was to be a human. There were so many more things than keeping after yourself. Not that relationships and emotions were strange territory, there was just so much more out there he never experienced before. He realized he was only just beginning to learn what it was all like. "At least, I don't think so." 

"It's most likely just last minute nerves. Maybe even a little crush. No need to go on proposing to her during dessert." You reassured the man. "Just go in there and be yourself."

"Okay." Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his nerves before placing a hand on the passenger side door. "Thanks, Dean."

"Cas, wait. I can't let you do this." Dean managed to stop the other man before he made a grave himself. Cas sat with his foot standing on the pavement and the car door opened a few inches. The poor guy thought Dean was going to try and stop him from meeting up with Nora, thinking it was a bad idea after all. But that wasn't the cause of concern for Dean. He was looking out for his friend. His attention was focused on the tacky blue vest Cas was still wearing. "You're gonna wear that on a date?"

Cas put his foot back into the car and shut the door again, having a feeling there was something Dean was hinting around. First impressions were everything. Cas wanted to make the very best. He glanced down at his clothes to see what the problem might be. He always kept a tidy appearance. There was not a single stain on his outfit, maybe a piece of lint he overlooked. He didn't understand what the problem was, or how he could fix it. 

“This is all I have, Dean.” Cas confessed. 

"You know, Dean is right. Uh...we don't have time for you to change." You thought to yourself for a moment about what Cas could do to try and spruce up his appearance a bit better. You should've forced Dean to let Cas borrow some of his clothes. But you would just have to work with what you had. You tilted your head to the side and bit your lip for a brief second to try and think. "Okay. Lose the vest."

“What are you—” 

"Lose the vest. Come on. Fork it over." You stopped Cas from trying to put up a fight about the stupid article of clothing. Thankfully he complied and handed over the bulk of fabric over to you from the front seat. "That's a little better. And now your buttons—why don't you unbutton it?”

Sometimes Cas took things a little too literal. The man started to undo the first two buttons of his shirt like you suggested, but kept going with a third one and almost undid another before Dean stopped him. "That's far enough, Tony Manero. Save the strip tease for Nora." 

"All right. Let me take a look." You leaned forward in your seat to try and get a better look at Cas with his slightly new appearance. You took a few seconds before you deemed him good enough to head off on his date. "Yeah. Good.” 

"Listen to me. There's a few things you need to know." Dean felt the need to give the man some advice if he wasn't to make a fool of himself, more than he probably already would. "Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And...oh, if she's happy to go dutch, she's lying."

"Okay, that's enough." You interrupted the man before he could give anymore unsolicited information that might hurt Cas more than help. You lightly slapped a hand on Cas' shoulder and offered a supportive smile. "Go get 'em, tiger." 

Cas inhaled a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart before finally gathering the courage to open up the passenger side door again and step out. You and Dean watched as he finally made his way to Nora's front door, finding this situation sort of like dropping off your kid on their first date. There was a sort of innocence and adorable factor that made you smile. Dean offered a supportive thumbs up when Cas stopped at the closed front gate and looked over his shoulder to see the both of you were still there. Cas returned the gesture before opening up the gate and continued heading toward the house. 

You smiled to yourself when Cas managed to make it to the front door without backing out. He adjusted his appearance one more time to make sure he looked presentable and reached a fist up to knock on the door. However he stopped when he realized something. Wasn't it customary to bring dates flowers as a romantic token? What if she was expecting them? Before he could begin to panic, luck seemed to have been on his side tonight. 

Cas spotted a blooming rose bush conveniently right next to the porch. He remembered Nora saying about how she liked gardening in her free time. Red roses were also a symbol of love. He found a pair of clippers and snipped himself a single rose, Nora wouldn't know the difference. Dean snickered to himself when Cas’ small touch he added on his own caused the poor man to prick his fingers when he cut the single flower off. It seemed Cas might not be doomed after all. 

"I think it's our cue to leave." You said. You slipped out from the backseat and back into the passenger side when you saw Cas waving you off, wanting you both to get out of here before Nora realized he was here. You smiled at the sight. "Our boy's all grown up."

You waved back at Cas as Dean turned the engine back on before either one of you could embarrass your friend in front of his date. However before Dean could pull away from the curb, he swiftly put his foot on the brake when he saw a truck start backing up when it seemed to have come out of nowhere. Dean slowly started to grow frustrated when the car started to get dangerously close to the Impala. Before there could be an accident, he managed to get the driver's attention. You waved one final time at Cas before the Impala drove off down the street and into the night, all before disappearing from sight.

\+ + +

A few minutes into driving after dropping off Cas on his date, the silence that fell over the car was interrupted by your phone going off. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who might be trying to get in contact with you. You partially hoped it wasn't Cas. Things couldn't have gone south that quickly. When you spotted the name on the I.D. of the sheriff you had been working on the case with together, you answered it after the third ring.

"Now, here's a wrinkle. Our first crime scene, the married couple? Full analysis of the spray came in from the lab." The sheriff got a strange lead that he thought you might want to hear about that benefited both parties. And it cut down on the list of suspects to just one possible lead. "Turns out it only contains the wife's DNA."

"The husband's still out there." You mumbled, connecting the dots on your own. You thanked the sheriff for the tip before ending the call. You turned your gaze over to Dean, who had been trying to split his attention from you and the road. "We got to go by the police station. I think I know who’s behind all of this.” 

\+ + +

Figuring out the face to the angel who was causing all of these deaths was only part of the puzzle you needed to solve in order to wrap up this hunt before someone else could get hurt. You and Dean stopped by the station to have a talk with the sheriff to hear out what else he had found out from the new lead. You looked through the documents of the wife's death certificate and the typed up police file about the actual reported crime, hoping to find something that might help pinpoint a direction to help you solve this hunt once and for all. 

"He was already a bit screwy, but then he found religion. She was a hard-line atheist, no peach herself. When he got himself obsessed with this Buddy Boyle whack job, an already bad marriage got worse." The sheriff went on about the couple that landed with the wife dead, and the husband still missing. You scoffed ever so quietly to yourself at the familiar sounding name. It all was starting to make sense now of how this mess came to be. "Kept telling her to 'let God in.'" 

"Buddy Boyle." Dean repeated the name of a preacher he heard before. You glanced up from the documents and rolled your eyes from the trouble he was causing you lately on an already crappy situation that was spiraling out of control."That explains it."

“Explains what?” The sheriff asked, feeling out of the loop from what the man was talking about. 

"Nevermind. Uh, let's see." You focused your attention back to the documents as you shuffled around the papers to try and find something actually useful. You stumbled upon a photograph that made you do a double take of the happy couple. You pointed a finger to the vehicle in the background. "Is that his truck?"

"Yep." The sheriff casually answered. 

You remembered where you saw the truck before, right when you were leaving Nora's house, the one that nearly backed into the Impala. You and Dean shared the same worried expression, coming to the possible conclusion to the worst possible outcome. Cas was in danger. If you and Dean weren't quick enough to get back to him, he might be next. 

\+ + +

Trying to understand how a human deals with the influx of emotions was a complicated and difficult thing without experiencing what it was like to be one first hand, and even then it was still confusing. The smallest and kindest gesture can make someone burst with happiness, while a slight inconvenience can ruin one’s day. Cas learned slowly over time that he was just like everyone else on this planet. Nothing special without his grace, living day to day just trying to survive. And while it might seem depressing and bleak at times, it wasn't always like that. Cas learned that life wasn’t so bad being a measly human. But his brother didn’t want to see past the pain. 

His brother wanted to fix these humans and make the world a better place like he did in heaven, the place that was no longer. All the angel could feel was the endless sorrow in the world. An endless melody that called out to him, begging for relief. Cas was calling to him the loudest. The man might have been warded from all angels, but his pain was like a beacon shining down on him. It made him stick out like a sore thumb for his brother to find him and put the poor human out of his misery once and for all. But Cas wasn’t a feeble creature. He might have been without his grace to protect himself, he still had some tricks up his sleeve to keep himself alive long enough for his friends to come to his aid. 

The backdoor to Nora’s house burst open without warning, causing the conversation between Cas and his brother about his life choices to be mometairly paused, the angel wondering who was trying to ruin a special moment. It seemed you and Dean figured out on your own who was to blame for the recent deaths around town. The both of you came charging in with your angel blade in hand swinging up in the air, but you were no match against the more powerful being who easily flung you across the room. 

Dean landed roughly against the wall and into some of the baby's things, none of which broke his fall. You slid across the floor and into a dining room chair that caused you to hit your head against the wood. The blow was enough for you to forget for a moment about the blade. You tried brushing off the pain and placed the hand that had been holding the weapon to your now throbbing head. When the pain subsided enough for you to open up your eyes and figure out where the angel might have gone, you noticed his attention drifted away from Cas and to you for some reason. A bad feeling settled into your stomach at the way he was just staring...observing you. 

“What happened to you?” The angel whispered to only felt himself. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you stared up at the angel, wondering what kind of pain you must be giving off. Your life has been filled with nothing but misery and pain. But it was a pain that you couldn't see yourself. "The sorrow you're going through, it's strong. Stronger than I've felt with most. The guilt is the worst of all, isn’t it?”

Your expression shifted into a hardened expression at the things he was saying. You tried to play dumb, hoping you might be able to buy yourself some time while you figured out how to get out of this. "What the hell are you talking about?”

“You humans try so hard to hide the pain, but I can see it so clearly. You’re suffering. All of you are.” The angel went on without going into proper details about the sort of pain you were feeling at the moment. The kind that you buried deep underneath the surface for no one to see, not even yourself. A sort of sympathetic smile crossed his face at the trauma he felt off of you. "You're denying yourself the truth.” 

Dean used the angel’s distraction as a way to get the upper hand and finish this before anyone else died at the hands of unwanted mercy, or to spill any secrets that needed to remain buried deep down. He slid the blade across the floor and over to Cas, who swiftly grabbed the weapon and did what needed to be done. Killing any of his siblings never got any easier. Whenever he was forced to kill one of his siblings, it never got any easier when the numbers of their kind dwindled over the years from war and tragedy. But he couldn’t let his brother keep going on this path, there would be no end to his mercy. You quickly shielded your eyes from the sudden burst of white light when Cas plunged the blade into the angel’s chest, ending his brother's mercy killing with one of his own. 

\+ + +

Turns out Cas’ evening plans turned into an accidental miscommunication between Nora and himself. She was going on a date—just not with him. Cas spent the night with Tanya, Nora’s infant daughter who was now peacefully sleeping after the commotion that went down in the kitchen not too far from her nursery. While Dean took a call from his brother outside, you helped Cas tidy things up and take care of the baby’s fever that was starting to worry him. With his grace gone, Cas couldn’t fix humans anymore with a simple touch to the forehead. Luckily for him, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to help. 

“It’s probably because she’s teething. An easy fix.” You explained to him. You spotted a few teeth poking through the baby’s gums when she let out a yawn at how she was being kept up past her bedtime. “Why don’t you go to the medicine cabinet and see if there’s any baby aspirin? That should do the trick.” 

You took Tanya out of Cas’ arms without an ounce of hesitation and began to slowly rock her back and forth when she started to grow fussy. You occupied the baby while Cas departed to the bathroom to hunt down the medicine you told him to get. He came back a minute later to see you softly cooing at the baby with smiling praises of how adorable she was. Despite never having had a child of your own, and the loss of one, you fell into the motherly figure naturally. You were a caregiver to him and the boys, even to strangers you never met before. The sight of you holding Tanya made his heart break. 

When you saw the man was back with the medicine, you grabbed the medicine and proceeded to read the instructions that would bring the fever right down. Cas continued to watch as you handled Tanya with ease, acting naturally as she was your own. He realized that this was both of yours first moment alone together since everything happened unfolded and him leaving the bunker. There was so much he wanted to say to you. 

“You’re very good with her.” Cas wasn’t sure if what he said was the right thing. It had only been a short time ago since everything unfolded. Wounds such you had dealt with might still be sore. And what his brother had said about you burying it deep down was something you would most likely do. Sometimes that wasn’t healthy. Humans need to talk about their problems, or at least give people who they loved reassurance they weren’t dealing with these problems alone. A small smile crossed your face at the compliment. “I...I also wanted to apologize to you.” 

Your face scrunched up slightly in confusion at the sudden shift in conversation topic. “What for?”

“For not being there for you when you needed me the most. If I learned anything about being a human from you and the Winchesters, it’s that you’re there for the people you care about in crisis.” Cas said. “Dean called me from the hospital and told me what happened after you stopped doing the trials. It’s...I wish I was there.” 

You fell silent for a moment as your expression shifted into one that made Cas suddenly regret bringing it up in the first place. You put Tanya down back into her crib and turned back to him. A heavy sigh fell from your lips at what you were about to admit.

“Don’t tell Dean, but...I guess there was some truth to what the angel said back there. I’ve been beating myself up about it for weeks now about what happened. Sometimes I lie in bed and think about what it might be like if things turned a bit differently.” You said. You turned your attention to the sleeping Tanya and smiled to yourself for a brief second about how adorable she looked. “But feeling guilty over it won’t change the past. We can’t change anything about what we did. That’s something you’re going to learn pretty quickly about being human. All we can do is keep moving forward and make best with what we got, not what we lost.” 

Cas listened to your words of advice and nodded his head. He was starting to understand that no matter who he was, angel or human, no one was perfect. Mistakes were going to be made. It was just the nature of living. “You know, you don’t make such a bad human, after all.” Your compliment to the man made him chuckle for the first time tonight. 

You made your way to the door when Tanya's quiet snores came from the crib. Cas felt the need to return your compliment with one of his own. "If you ever are given the chance to be a mother, I think you would be perfect." He said. "You're a kind person, Y/N. You deserve the happiness that you seek. It might not come soon...but hopefully one day."

“Thanks, Cas.” You mumbled. You didn't know why, but the thought of becoming a mother made you suddenly grow a little bit sad at the prospect you might not have all of this. You talked about how you thought you never would or want to have a child, but deep down, you were lying to yourself. It was a bitter sadness that you buried deep down. You looked over at the crib and let out a quiet sigh. "That means a lot."

Back outside with Dean, his conversation with his brother was turning out to be less comforting than the one you had with Cas. He leaned against the hood of the Impala and listened to the night he had with Kevin and Crowley, hoping there might have been some good news sprinkled in there somewhere. It turned out to be the worst outcome Dean could think of. He took the truth Crowley gave his brother with a grain of salt. The demon had been less helpful to them in the past without getting something out of them. Dean highly doubted the self isolation treatment the demon was being given softened him up. Sam was confident Crowley was telling the truth. 

"No, Dean, not this time." Sam told his brother the hard truth all of you were going to have to come to terms with. "Look, Metatron built the spell to withstand any attempt to reverse it. There is no putting the angels back in heaven. It's done.”

The older Winchester let out a heavy sigh from what this news meant for someone. He finished up the call with his brother the exact moment you accidentally spooked him when you placed a hand on his arm. You smiled at his reaction before it slowly faltered at the sight of his face. Dean told you the same news Sam had given him over the phone about the mess that seemed to be unfixable. Your mind immediately went to the one person who was going to handle it the hardest, and who it affected the most. "Are you gonna tell Cas?"

The poor guy already was beating himself up badly about the situation that he caused, and all he wanted to do was undo his mistakes. But it seemed there was no way of putting things back together the way it once was. There were just some problems you couldn't fix. Out of anyone, you understood that the most.

\+ + +

Every part of you wanted to keep Cas around and offer him a chance to have a proper place to call his home back at the bunker. But there were circumstances you would eventually learn that kept him from doing so. For now you remained in the dark about the reason why, thinking it was Cas’ personal choice to do as such. Cas had made a life of his own in this little town and seemed to be enjoying himself. It was just how it was going to be for now until things got better. if that was even possible anymore. 

The final stop for Cas was back at the convenience store before his shift started. You conveniently excused yourself for a quick pit stop to the restroom before you and Dean headed back on the road to the bunker. It gave Dean a perfect chance to have a conversation with his friend about how things had to be. 

"Listen, Cas, back at the bunker, I'm sorry I told you to go." Dean started off with an apology that felt like it needed to be said. "I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Somehow you're adapting. I know Y/N's been worried about you, but it makes her happy seeing you do good. And, honestly, I'm proud of you."

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said. Hearing words of encouragement from his friends brought a small ounce of happiness to him, but it only lasted for a short while, something else was weighing heavy on his mind that felt he needed to discuss. He glanced out the window before back to the hunter. "But there's something Ephraim said. The angels--they need help. Can I really sit this one out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home?"

"Don't worry. Me, Y/N and Sam, we'll take care of the angels." Dean reassured his friend, releasing him of the burden. "You're human now. It's not your problem anymore."

Dean never got around to telling Cas the information Sam told him. He should've. It was probably the right thing to do. But he couldn't get himself to do that, not to the poor guy who was already feeling down. He didn't lie, he just glossed over the truth. Refrained from giving all of the truth. It was becoming a habit lately with him—not telling the whole truth. Dean kept telling himself it was for the best. 

He forgot that the truth will always come out. There was no lie or feeling that a person can bury deep enough to keep it from seeing the light. Eventually it was going to come back and haunt him.


End file.
